


How To Hate Yourself (yes this is a love story)

by cassandracalls



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Archie Andrews - Not as Oblivious As You Think But Almost, Bi Veronica, Blood, Dissociation, Enemies to Lovers (But At No Point Are They Ever Friends), F/F, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Mental Health Issues, No I Don't Know Why It's So Damn Long, Non-Graphic Violence, Rough Sex, Self-Destruction, Self-Harm, betty cooper is stronger than you, bi bi betty, jovial agony
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-08
Updated: 2019-04-25
Packaged: 2020-01-06 20:41:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 35
Words: 30,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18395966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cassandracalls/pseuds/cassandracalls
Summary: Two people who hate each other and themselves start having sex, what could possibly go wrong?Certainly not any kind of feelings. That would be ridiculous!





	1. How To Run

**Author's Note:**

> The whole thing has been written (all damn 30 thousand words of it) and I will be uploading each chapter as I finish my final editing pass.
> 
>  
> 
> _italics indicate thought_

_ nonononononononononononononononononononononononononono _

 

The road stopped, Betty didn’t. Didn’t even slow down. Slowing down was for people who had time. For people who could, who couldn’t, who, who…

 

_ nonononononononononononononononononononononononononono _

 

The car jostled and bounced over the uneven ground of the woods, thicket being torn up by its wheels. Bad noises being made where car and nature connected. This was clearly no good for either. Betty might have cared if she could hear anything over the noise in her head screaming.

 

_ nonononononononononononononononononononononononononono _

 

The tendons in her wrist strained as she held a death grip on the steering wheel. Her eyes were burning, it had been too long since she last blinked but for all the noise in her head screamed at her…

 

_ nonononononononononononononononononononononononononono _

 

...her face was blank, her breathing calm and her foot slammed down on the break. Too late, not by much, but still too late. The car came to an abrupt stop. Hitting a tree can do that. Momentum and Betty’s seat belt had an argument with her stuck in the middle and Betty’s boob was the biggest loser. She gasped as the air was pushed out of her, didn’t even notice the pain, feel the new bruise forming, even if it was worse than the other bruises that powdered her breasts, and not as fun to get.

 

_ nonononononononononononononononononononononononononono _

 

She tore at the seat belt before throwing herself out the car and running. Didn’t bother with the keys, didn’t close the door, just ran. The car’s headlights behind her being her best source of light she had, not that they stuck with her for long as she barreled through bushes and bounced off trees.

Betty ran. And ran. And ran. Pushing herself as hard as she could, which was pretty damn hard.

Why was she wearing jeans? Why was she always wearing jeans? If she were in her baseball or cheerleader or workout clothes it would be better. At least they weren’t skinny jeans. It doesn’t matter, none of it mattered, she just had to move, just had to be faster, just had to had to had to be on time. HAD TO.

Sounds of tearing, snapping, breaking, ripping. But mostly running, running, running. At first the flora seemed content with ripping her clothes. The jeans fared better than the white pullover at least, but it didn’t last. She could feel it, in a distant, far off kind of a way. Pulling, stabbing, pinching, tearing. Like the woods around her were trying to slow her down, hold her back. Betty did not slow down. Didn’t look at the bramble stuck in her side. Didn’t notice the dark patches spreading out, leaving less and less white on her top like a visceral version of othello (the game, not the play).

Her foot caught in the undergrowth but she didn’t slow down as her body crashed, skidding along the rough ground, ripping through her jeans. Her skin fared no better. Palms, face, knees, elbows torn up to the point where if she took her clothes off she’d look like a naked sushi platter for vampires.

She pushed herself up, ignoring the throbbing in her left thigh. Not acknowledging the pinching, piercing, jostling pain. Her leg wasn’t moving right for a moment but she pushed past it, forced it into obedience and kept running running running.

Close, so close now, so almost there and she can’t be too late, can’t can’t can’t have been too slow. Has to has to has to make it and she hears it.

Voices, not words, just voices. She can’t make out what they’re saying. Maybe she’s too far away to make out words, the woods bouncing the sounds around, obscuring them. Or maybe language was beyond her, maybe she had bypassed that part of her brain. Anything that isn’t speed and white hot anger having been left behind in case they slow her down.

And again. Two voices, one high and anxious, unbelieving and in pain. But no fear in it, never fear. The other deep and low and not a single trace of the love that should be there.

It’s the first voice she focuses on, moves to, has to get to, can’t not get to. Pushing and running and running and pushing.

And she’s there, bursting on them through the woods with a feral scream.

Then the bang.

The noise surrounded them, bounced around them off the trees.

Betty staggered back at the impact. Pain blossomed inside her, spreading it’s tendrils throughout her and the smallest, tiniest part of her mind that could still think lied to her. Said that maybe someone had heard, that someone would help.

No. Not here, not now. Besides, what’s another gunshot in Riverdale?


	2. How To Break

Why?

Why was the biggest question in Betty’s life.

Why wasn’t Polly here? Why were her family the way they were? Why didn’t Archie… why did Archie…  just why Archie? Why was Jason dead? Why did he run? Why didn’t Cheryl?

But right now it was why was she here? Why didn’t she just stick to baseball? Or the Blue and Gold? Or cars? Or any one of a thousand other things? Why did she let Ronnie drag her into this? Why wasn’t anyone else here?

And why oh why did Cheryl need to rip her apart?

 

It was just the two of them left in the locker room after cheer practice, Betty and Cheryl, Cheryl and Betty. Riverdale High’s most acerbic double act. A python and her chew toy.

Cheryl had stopped getting dressed, she stood there in her skirt and bra openly staring at Betty.

 

Betty let out a sigh as she pulled on her trainers.

“Fine. you win.” She muttered under her breath before looking up at the other girl. “What is it Cheryl?”

 

“Oh, sorry,” (she wasn’t) “I was just wondering” (she wasn’t) “if your parents ever regret getting your names the wrong way around?” (they didn’t) Cheryl said, her head tilted at a sympathetic angle, the mock concern in her voice mocked by the half hidden smirk on her lips.

 

Betty felt herself tense at this. Her jaw clench, muscles tighten, knuckles whiten. She felt her nails dig into her palm, focused on that, on the control it gave her and not on what Cheryl was saying.

 

“It just seems that if you and Polly swapped names it would fit so much better. I mean Broken Betty and Perfect Polly has such a ring to it.”

 

Betty felt the give in her palms as her nails broke the skin.

 

Cheryl had been doing this for a while now. Pushing and prodding, probing Betty’s edges, finding her limits all so she could push just that little more than Betty could take. More than anything (other than having Jason back) Cheryl wanted to see her bestest fremeny snap. To see what happened when Betty finally, finally couldn’t hold herself back. So she pushes Betty and she pushes Betty and she pushes Betty and it’s just the two of them and maybe, maybe, maybe when no one else is looking when there’s nothing left to hold on to Betty will break and Cheryl will be able to feel something other than fear and self-loathing.

 

“So much better than Broken Polly and Perfect…”

 

Betty felt the shock of impact reverberate down her arm, heard the sound of skin hitting skin before she even realised her hand had moved.

 

_ I slapped Cheryl Blossom _

 

Cheryl’s head snapped to the right, her red hair whipped around and covered her face.

 

_ I slapped Cheryl Blossom _

 

So Betty couldn’t see the gleam in her eyes, the wicked smile that curled at her lips.

 

_ I slapped Cheryl Blossom _

 

When Cheryl turned back Betty didn’t see the fury she expected. Instead it was the happiest she’d ever seen Cheryl when she wasn’t with Jason (and she wouldn’t be with Jason ever again). 

 

_ I slapped Cheryl Blossom _

 

But instead of it being a relief it broke her more. Pushed her further down into herself.

 

_ and she is happy about it _

 

Cheryl put her hand to her cheek and her fingers came away wet and sticky. She rubbed her fingertips together as she looked at them and her smile widened. It wasn’t her blood. Cheryl’s eyes darted down to Betty’s hands. She saw the blood, the ragged little cuts Betty had made in her palms.

 

“I guess Broken Betty does work after all.” Cheryl said. “But we still need something for Polly, perfect really doesn’t describe her.” Cheryl cocked her head to the side like she was thinking for a moment. “Of course! Broken Betty and Psycho Po…”

 

Cheryl had been expecting another slap to stop her. Was actually, and she would never admit to it, kinda looking forward to it. But there was no slap this time. Just Betty’s eyes, cold and empty, locking with hers and interrupting her.

 

“Does it ever bother you that you’re the reason your brother is dead?” Betty said, her voice flat and emotionless as though she were reciting the most obvious and dull of facts.

 

Everything was frozen for a moment and then Cheryl could feel her entire being folding in on itself. She stumbled past Betty. She wasn’t fast enough, couldn’t be fast enough, would never be fast enough. She got three whole steps before she fell to her knees and vomited on the floor. She gagged and gasped on her hands and knees until a strong hand gripped her underarm and pulled her to her feet.

 

There was still nothing in Betty’s eyes as she looked at Cheryl and sighed.

“Go clean yourself up. I’ll deal with this.” And she let go of Cheryl.

 

Cheryl stood there, legs still wobbly, lips pursed. She wasn’t smirking anymore. Then she half leaned, half fell into Betty, pushing herself into the other girl’s personal space, into her body.

 

That was the first time Cheryl Blossom kissed Elizabeth Cooper. With her breath stinking of vomit, her tongue tasting acrid and rotten and Betty kissed her back.

It was the hate-fuckiest kiss either of them had ever had.

 

Cheryl went to clean herself up (not that she was the only one who needed to rinse her mouth out anymore) and Betty got a mop.


	3. How To Stay Yourself

Veronica was draped over Betty’s shoulders. They were sitting on her bed as they watched 

videos on Betty’s laptop.

 

Veronica’s fingers curled around the loose fabric of Betty’s shirt.

Betty could feel the warmth from Veronica’s body seeping into her. The tickle of Veronica’s hair on her skin. The vibrations from Veronica’s chest as she laughed.

Veronica was warm and safe and good and Betty could barely feel her today. She was so focused on earlier, on what she’d said to Cheryl, what she’d done.

Betty had done the one thing she never wanted to do. Betty had listened to the noise in her head. The pain in her palms hadn’t been enough to keep it in the background and Cheryl got to suffer for it.

That wasn’t who Betty wanted to be.

Well, that’s not entirely true, sometimes it was exactly who Betty wanted to be, but it wasn’t who she wanted to want to be.

She took a deep breath and tried to focus. 

Not on the video, but on Veronica.

On the pressure of her body, the warmth of her, the hair tickling at Betty’s exposed skin. Being around Ronnie helped to ease the static. Today it wasn’t working as well as it usually did.

Sure, sometimes Betty wanted to kiss Veronica. Well kiss is what Betty would say. Not that she ever would. To anyone. Ever.

But it was less kiss and more Veronica’s body slamming into a wall, pinning her wrists above her head, making her moan and scream and weep, clothing tattered and body a heaving mess of spent orgasms and bodily fluids.

So yeah, sometimes Betty wanted to kiss Veronica but she never would. Veronica was her friend and she’d only be kissing her to feed the things she doesn’t talk about. Anyway, good girls don’t consume their friends.

And Veronica was her friend, her best friend, but Cheryl? Cheryl wasn’t. And Cheryl pushed her and pushed her and pushed her. Cheryl tried to break her at every opportunity. Cheryl got what she wanted and Veronica was talking to her. Frick, Veronica was talking to her.

 

“Sorry Ronnie?” Betty said, smile still there but too static for too long.

 

Veronica’s hands were on her upper arms now, rubbing up and down sympathetically.

“What’s wrong B?”

 

“Guess I’m kinda out of it huh?”

 

“Kinda.” Veronica said with a little laugh. “Wanna talk about it?”

 

“I…” Betty began but didn’t (couldn’t?) get any further, her eyes cast down at the floor as she gave a short, sharp shake of her head.

 

Veronica shifted from behind her.

“Come on.” She said as she patted her lap.

 

“Ronnie.” Yeah, it was a protest, but a very weak one.

 

Veronica raised her eyebrows. They were very deliberate eyebrows, eyebrows that would brook no disobedience and patted her lap again in a slow, purposeful motion. A slow purposeful motion that came with pursed lips.

 

“fine” Betty muttered and dragged herself along the bed so she could rest her head in Veronica’s lap.

 

“You wanna talk about it?” Veronica asked as she started stroking Betty’s hair.

 

“nuh-uh” Betty scrunched her eyes closed.

 

“Is there anything I can do?”

 

“nuh-uh”

 

“Is there someone I need to kill?”

 

A snort, a “no”, a hand giving Veronica’s knee a grateful squeeze.

 

They stayed like that then, Betty’s head in Veronica’s lap. Veronica running her fingers through Betty’s hair for time. No amount of it, no then to now, just time. All of it and none of it. Galaxies, universes were born and died while Veronica stroked Betty’s hair and it was frozen, one moment stretched out infinitely.

If anyone ever tells you that no matter what, the world will keep turning then they are a liar because in that time, in that place, it did not.

 

“I don’t like myself very much” Betty’s voice was low and coming from somewhere far, far away when she spoke.

 

“I know, but that’s okay, everybody's allowed to be wrong about something, even Betty Cooper.”

 

“I, I did something today.”

 

Veronica stroked Betty’s hair.

 

“Said something.”

 

Veronica stroked Betty’s hair.

 

“Something that I can’t undo.”

 

Veronica stroked Betty’s hair.

 

Betty sighed. 

“I… I have to go.” She said as she pushed herself up.

 

“Wait.” Veronica said.

 

She pulled Betty toward her, placed a kiss on her temple and pressed their foreheads together.

“I believe in you. I love you. I trust you.”

 

“Thanks Ronnie.”


	4. How To Apologise

There was a knock on Cheryl’s bedroom door and she felt the fear wash over her.

Nothing good ever came from knocks on her door.

Jason never knocked (nor would he ever now), he had always called her name, his voice half teasing. He had always wanted her to know that it was him and not their parents waiting for her. Something good. Nothing to worry about. Nothing to fear.

Now Cheryl was always afraid. Fear was her constant companion so she smothered it with blood red lipstick and perfect hair.

The four sharp raps at her door brought a different fear. It was her parents. It was always her parents. Not always in person, it could be one of the staff, but it would be her parents and her parents had only ever done one good thing. 

Jason.

Just Jason.

Everything else they had ever done was pain and hate and spite (and yes, she included herself in that).

But just because she was afraid, just because she wanted to to, didn’t mean she could ignore the knocking.

Because, yes, Cheryl Blossom was always afraid but she never, never let that fear show.

 

So she opened the door, ready for the worst (well, not  _ the _ worst, that had already happened, Jason was dead)

 

“hi” Betty said meekly with a half wave of her hand when Cheryl opened the door.

  
  
  
  
  


It took a moment for Cheryl’s brain to catch up with reality.

“What are you doing here Cooper?”

 

“I…” Betty pursed her lips. “Can we talk? Please?”

 

Cheryl rolled her eyes but after a few beats she stood aside and let Betty in.

 

“Thanks.” Betty said as the door clicked closed behind her.

 

“Not to sound like I’m out of material but what are you doing here Cooper? And believe me, that is the only repeat performance you’ll be getting today. If you were hoping for an encore of my little bulimic ballet then I shall have to happily disappoint you.”

 

“I came to apologise.”

 

Cheryl raised an eyebrow.

 

“What I said to you, it was, it was…” Betty took a deep breath and held it for a few beats before continuing. “...it was awful. I know what I said isn’t true and I said it just to hurt you. I am so so sorry Cheryl. What I did was unforgivable but if there is any way I can make it up to you I will.”

 

“So that’s it?” Cheryl said with a snarl. “Broken Betty desperately seeking perfection?” Cheryl noticed how Betty tensed at the word perfection and smiled a little. “And what are you going to do exactly? Give me lessons on how to be a doormat? Teach me how to give simpering looks to Archie Andrews so I can pretend I’m so in love with him?”

 

“Cheryl, I…”

 

“Hush, girl interrupted.” Cheryl was circling Betty as she spoke. “I’m not done. I don’t need to know what Veronica Lodge’s sloppy seconds are like. Or how much fun the closet is just so I can pretend to be perfect.” And there’s that tensing again. “I don’t need a pitiful pretense of perfection.” And again. “Nor do I need to learn how to wear pastels to disguise my perfect” and again “lack of a personality. You, Elizabeth Cooper have nothing to offer me, you’re just too…” And Cheryl drew the word out, like she was slipping a blade between Betty’s ribs. “...perfect.”

 

And for the second time that day Betty slapped her. For the second time that day she had Betty Cooper’s blood on her cheek.

 

“You just can’t stop yourself can you Cheryl? You just have to push.” Betty pushed her, leaving a red smear on Cheryl’s white top. “And push.” and again “And push.” and again.

 

The back of Cheryl’s legs hit something and all of a sudden she was sitting on her bed, looking up at the Betty Cooper of her dreams as she wiped the blood from her cheek.

 

“You know…” Cheryl said with a smirk as she licked Betty’s blood from her fingers. “...there was a kid at school who swore that Betty Cooper, everybody's favourite little girl next door Betty Cooper, had blown him. At school. Of course no one believed him, Betty Cooper’s too sweet and innocent for that, to pure and perfect.” Another slap. “And the Betty Cooper Protection Squad descended upon him like jackals. That one silly little lie destroyed any chance he had of a social life at Riverdale.”

 

“Do you have a point Cheryl?” Betty loomed over her like an executioner.

 

“What did his cock taste like?”

 

Cheryl locked eyes with Betty and gazed up at her expectantly.

 

Betty tilted her head and stared back, face unreadable. They held their positions for one second, two, three, ten, until Betty apparently made a decision and her posture relaxed a little.

 

“It tasted like I wished he’d had a shower that morning.”

 

Cheryl laughed as she took one of Betty’s hands.

“Why at school? Seems too dangerous for you.”

She unfurled Betty’s fingers to look at the fresh cuts in her palms.

 

“I needed it, needed something. Too much noise, too much static. Had to burn it out.”

 

“So you sucked random dick?”

Cheryl drew Betty’s hand up to her lips and licked at the blood, eyes never once leaving Betty’s.

 

“He was never meant to say anything. Besides, even if he did, who’d believe him? Everyone knows I’m not like that.”

 

“Just the once?” There was blood on Cheryl’s lips. The contrast pointed out the lie of calling her lipstick ‘blood red’.

 

“If he hadn’t said anything then maybe it would have been more.”

 

“But he did.”

 

“But he did and one person says that about me, they’re a liar. A group of people though?”

 

“And Betty Cooper isn’t a good girl anymore.”

 

Betty didn’t say anything, her gaze flicked between Cheryl’s eyes and mouth. There were smudges of blood on her chin as well.

 

Cheryl lapped up more of Betty’s blood before she spoke again.

“And Betty Cooper is a good girl. Everyone knows Betty Cooper is the perf…”

 

Betty’s hand clamped around Cheryl’s mouth. She hadn’t intended to smother her, just to stop her talking, not breathing. But she was smothering her. Cheryl’s chest trembled as her lungs failed to fill but she didn’t move. Didn’t try to stop Betty from suffocating her, just kept staring into Betty’s eyes, looking more and more like herself and less like the ghost she had been turning into since Jason’s death.

 

“Stop using that word.” Betty’s voice was a harsh whisper.

 

Cheryl didn’t nod, didn’t anything. Just sat there and let Betty stop her from breathing. Betty waited a few moments before she let go.

 

“You’re going to have to clean yourself up again.” Betty said.

There was blood smeared all around Cheryl’s mouth now, over her chin, edging onto her cheeks. She gasped for air and smiled.

 

“What do you do now?” Cheryl panted.

 

Betty shrugged.

“Batting practice. Work on cars. Running. It helps. But when I just can’t, then places outside of Riverdale exist.”

 

“You cruise Greendale for dick?”

 

Another shrug.

“Is this what you want? Is this my apology?”

 

Instead of answering Cheryl took her other hand and began to lick.

 

Betty’s face did something that was both a smile and a frown at the same time.

“If I need to. And who said it had to be dick?”

 

Cheryl made a low noise in her throat at that while she continued to lap up Betty’s blood.

 

“What do you want Cheryl?”

 

She stopped and smiled.

“I want Broken Betty. I want her to do whatever she wants to me, to use me up.”

 

Betty was silent.

 

“you’re not the only one who has to burn things out of themselves.” Cheryl broke eye contact as she spoke, looking down at the floor, suddenly vulnerable.

She could see Betty’s feet as they moved forward.

Feel Betty’s fingers in her hair.

A tingle in her scalp as Betty closed her fist.

A sudden shock of pain as Betty yanked her head back so they were looking at each other again.

 

“Three times.” Betty said. “I will be this for you three times to make up for what I did.”

 

“Three times.” Cheryl agreed, not caring about the blood in her hair or the pain in her scalp.

 

This time Betty kissed her.

It turns out she preferred the taste of her own blood to Cheryl’s vomit.


	5. How To Make The Most Of Your Lunch

Betty was smiling gently as she picked absentmindedly at her food. She was at school, it was lunch, and she definitely wasn’t thinking about the night before with Cheryl.

 

“I can’t do this again Arch.” Jughead said. “You are wrong, you were always wrong. You will always be wrong.”

 

“Look, it changes some details but it’s a total rip off!” Archie said.

 

“Just because they both have kids killing each other doesn’t make it a rip off.”

 

It was a familiar argument and listening to it again felt like slipping into an old, worn jumper. As Archie repeated the exact same points he made every time he and Jughead had this argument Betty found her attention slipping to a different red head.

 

Cheryl was sitting on the other side of the cafeteria with Ginger and Tina. She wasn’t paying any attention to what they were saying and wasn’t trying to hide it. She was aching in a stretched and worn out way that made her feel light. Every time she turned just so the band of her skirt would rub against some very raw skin and remind her of last night. She had to stop herself from both wincing and smiling whenever it happened and Betty was looking at her.

Cheryl didn't look back, she had more subtlety than that. People think that Cheryl has no subtlety but there's a reason she always knows the exact worse thing to say to you.

Instead of looking back at Betty, Cheryl smiled a very Cheryl smile and leant into Ginger to whisper something in her ear.

 

Betty’s eyes flicked around the cafeteria so they wouldn’t stick to Cheryl as she whispered in Ginger’s ear.

A memory of Cheryl’s breath hot against her skin pushed its was to the front of her mind. She needed to focus, she was going to have to contribute to this conversation soon.

Cheryl and Ginger stood up. Cheryl was halfway to the exit, Ginger halfway to them when Jughead turned to her and spoke.

 

“Tell him he’s wrong Betty.” That was her cue, just like clockwork.

 

“Sorry Arch, but Jugg’s right.”

 

Archie clutched at his chest and looked very theatrically aghast.

“Et tu Betty? Betrayed by my two best friends, left with nothing and…”

 

Archie’s monologue was cut short when a limp piece of lettuce hit him in the face.

 

“We get the picture Tommy Wiseau.” Jughead said.

 

“Do you never get tired of this?” Veronica rolled her eyes as she spoke but the smile twitching at her lips gave her away.

 

Before anyone could answer Ginger lent on the table, getting a little too much into Veronica’s personal space.

 

“Oh Verrronicccaaaa.” She said in a sing-song voice, all bright eyes and saccharine smiles. 

 

“Ginger.” Veronica said.

 

“Sooooo…” Ginger’s voice was full of mock concern. “...my friend hates your friend and…” Ginger waited expectantly as everyone at the table turned from her to see the bounce of red hair as the cafeteria door closed.

 

“Ginger.” Veronica sighed, resting her chin in her hand. “Nobody cares. Cheryl could wait out there until judgement day and still nobody would care and nobody would come. In fact…”

Veronica was stopped by Betty standing up. “Betts?”

 

“If I don’t deal with her now, I’ll just have to deal with her later.” Betty said as she flashed Veronica a weary smile.

 

“Want me to come with?”

 

“I’ll be fine. At least one of us should enjoy their lunch. Arch, take my tray back please?”

 

“Sure thing.” Archie said.

 

“Thanks. See you later.” Betty gave a little half wave as she followed Cheryl out the cafeteria and along the hall. She was just in time to see a flash of red head into the girls bathroom.

With a sigh and one or two worries about what was going to happen Betty stepped through the door.


	6. How To Shake Hands

“Well you took your time.” Cheryl said. She was leaning backwards against a sink, her sharp red nails tapping out a chaotic rhythm on the tiles.

 

“Are we really doing this now?” Betty asked as she closed the door behind her. “Here?”

 

“Three times.” Was all Cheryl said in response.

 

“Three times yeah, but do you really wanna burn through them that quickly?” Betty stepped into Cheryl's space, their bodies so close to touching. “Are you just that hot for me Cher?”

 

Cheryl could feel the heat thrumming through her body and she made a guttural keening noise.

 

Betty shrugged.

“You want to use your second time already?”

 

“First.” Cheryl said, her voice a whisper.

 

Betty raised an eyebrow.

“First?”

 

“First.”

 

“And what was last night?”

 

Cheryl cocked her head to the side, her eyes crawling all over Betty.

“A handshake.”

 

“You think that was a handshake?”

 

“A very us handshake.”

 

Betty was about to do something very like a very us handshake to Cheryl when the door opened.

 

There was suddenly space between them. A silence as they glared at each other. The girl that walked in was two years below them and only knew them by reputation.

She did not feel comfortable at all, and it wasn't just because she needed to pee. 

She stood, frozen, for a moment before darting into a stall.

As they waited Betty lent forward, voice low and said.

“I'll consider it.”

 

When the girl emerged Betty and Cheryl were in the exact same positions as when she last saw them. She stood there, looking slightly terrified. They were in the way of the sinks and she needed to wash her hands. They were in a stand off until Betty stepped back and gave her a warm smile.

She muttered a 'thanks’, washed her hands and fled.

 

The second the door closed Betty's hand was around Cheryl's throat, pushing her back into a stall.

With the door to the stall locked Betty took off her cardigan and hung it up. She looked at Cheryl with the blank emptiness that got Cheryl so wet.

She wanted to climb Betty there and then but when she tried Betty just shoved her back, sending her into the partition wall with a loud, rattling thump.

In one smooth motion Betty pulled her T-shirt off.

It was already rumpled and she had a cardigan to wear over it so fuck it.

She grabbed Cheryl by the hair and yanked her had back. When Cheryl's mouth hung slackly open Betty shoved her balled up t-shirt in there.

 

“i don't trust you to be quiet”

 

Betty didn't stop just because someone else walked into the bathroom.

 

And so choking down her grunts and sobs, gagging on the t-shirt in her mouth, bent over with one of Betty's hands pushing her head against the partition wall and the other buried inside her, Cheryl came.

 

When her legs gave out Betty supported her with one hand while she disentangled the other from, well from inside Cheryl.

She didn't need two hands, not really. Betty could hold Cheryl up one handed easily enough but it did help with maneuvering her while they waited for the jelly throughout Cheryl's body to reform back into bone.

 

“shhhhhh” Betty cooed into Cheryl's ear, holding her up with a firm gentility that was so at odds with how she was just treating her. “shhhhhhh”

When they were alone again Betty tilted Cheryl’s head back and eased the t-shirt out of her mouth while Cheryl hacked and wheezed, gasping for air when it was finally out.

 

“thank you” Cheryl rasped.

 

“you made a mess of my t-shirt” which was now crumpled, covered in slobber and slung over Betty’s shoulder “and my hand”

 

Betty looked at her hand as she touched her thumb to each of her fingers, feeling the tacky residue left there from being inside Cheryl.

There was nothing Cheryl could do about the t-shirt, but Betty's hand…

With still shaky fingers she gripped Betty's wrist, first kissing then lapping at Betty's fingers, tasting herself as she did.

Betty smiled at Cheryl’s eagerness and that everything inside was still and quiet and burned out.

In 73 seconds Cheryl would be able to stand and move again.

In 97 seconds Betty would stand guard while Cheryl cleans herself up and fixes her makeup.

In 9 minutes and 12 seconds Betty will tell her friends “nothing important” and “just Cheryl being Cheryl”.

In 2 months, 4 days, 10 hours, 13 minutes and 52 seconds Betty will be scratched and bloody and running through the woods.

In zero seconds she feels calm, at ease and as comfortable in her own skin as she can ever remember.


	7. How To Hail A Taxi

Cheryl was not happy.

She had better things to be doing (well, she didn’t, but that wasn’t the point, she could have).

She was not a fucking taxi.

 

“You took your time.” Betty said as she opened the car door.

 

“I am not a fucking taxi.” Cheryl said. “You couldn’t call one of the Betty Cooper Protection Squad? I’m sure they would have jumped at the chance to ferry you around.”

 

“No.” Betty’s voice was flat, but not in the fun way. Cheryl was going to drive home but instead she looked at Betty.

It was obvious why Betty couldn't have called anyone else. Other than the reason she was in Greendale that is.

She had what was going to be one hell of a black eye, her top was torn and her knuckles were as split as her lip (they were very split).

 

It was not what Cheryl had been expecting.

She had been expecting to be a post bang out pick up, not a disaster emergency contact.

 

“fuck” Cheryl muttered, and then “Fuck. Give me your phone.”

 

Betty did so without a word.

 

“Unlocked.” Cheryl said with a roll of her eyes.

So Betty unlocked her phone. After a minute Cheryl handed it back.

 

“What did you do?” Betty asked.

 

“Find my friend.”

 

Betty snorted.

“What, we're friends now?”

 

“Fuck no. But now the next time you feel like being a disasterpiece I won't have to circle around ass-fuck-knows-where trying to find you.”

 

Cheryl began the drive home. It was dark and quiet and 2am as the scenery passed by. The quiet didn't last long.

 

“So you can find me whenever now.” Betty said but didn't ask.

 

“Yes.” Cheryl still wasn't happy. It was morphing into a different kind of unhappy now though.

 

“But I can't find you.”

 

Cheryl didn't say anything.

 

“Seems kind of unfair.”

 

Cheryl kept her eyes on the road and her lips pursed tightly together.

 

“It's kinda like you're my stalker.”

 

Cheryl let out a sigh and handed Betty her phone.

 

“Much better” Betty said with a smile “now we're even.”

 

“No.” Cheryl said.

 

“No?”

 

“No. Not even even. I won't be calling you at dumb o'fuck in the morning to collect my battered and bruised self from another town.”

 

Betty just made a non-commital noise and looked out the window.

 

“What the fuck happened?”

 

Betty didn't say anything.

 

“Ugh!” Cheryl said, followed by some very angry breathing before she jerked at the steering wheel and stopped at the side of the road.

 

“What. The fuck. Happened.”

 

Betty looked at her this time, eyes searching her face, looking for something until she decided… something? And then Betty got out the car.

 

“Cooper?” Cheryl asked, confused. “COOPER?” Then anxious. “I am not dealing with another dead body.”

She scrambled at her seatbelt but her hands weren’t working as well as they should.

“i’m not i’m not i’m not i’m not i’m not i’m not” Cheryl kept repeating to herself frantically.

As she managed to undo her seatbelt the driver’s door was opened. In her panic Cheryl didn’t realise Betty was just walking around the car.

 

Betty’s hand on her cheek, callused and gentle calmed her words. It was odd, the gentleness of it. Betty wasn’t gentle with her. Gentle wasn’t what they went to each other for.

Her words may have stopped but Cheryl’s eyes still darted around, panicked and frightened, and unable to focus on anything. 

Betty leant in and kissed Cheryl. First on the forehead. Then on the lips. It was so soft, so calming that it could even have been affection, if they did that kind of thing with each other.

She reached down to tug on the release lever, pushed Cheryl’s seat back so there was enough space to mount her and close the door.

 

It wasn’t like their usual trysts. It had the intensity but none of the roughness. No new bruises or bite marks.

 

Something most people don’t know: Betty Cooper is liquid.

She can take the shape of whatever space your body has for her, and there, in that car on the side of the road between Greendale and Riverdale, at dumb o’fuck in the morning she was pouring herself into Cheryl. Each drop of Betty flowing into Cheryl easing the bad things out until there was no space for them as Cheryl writhed and whimpered beneath her.

 

Cheryl’s hair was a mess, her breathing ragged and her face tear stained as she floated back down into her body.

Her fingers danced lightly over Betty’s face. As she began to focus again they skimmed lightly around Betty’s black eye.

 

“What happened?” The ‘please’ wasn’t spoken but they both knew it was there.

 

Betty sighed, her shoulders sagging a little as she used one hand to prop herself up and ran her fingers through Cheryl’s hair with the other.

“Random hook up. He disagreed with me about how it should end.”

 

“And he… did he…” The fear was skirting Cheryl’s voice again.

 

“I’m not the one who needs a hospital.”

 

Cheryl’s brow crinkled.

 

“You know how many laps I run a day How many engine blocks I haul? How many times I swing a bat?”

 

Cheryl runs her hands over the taught muscles in Betty’s arms.

“At least twice by the feel of it.”

 

Betty smiled, and then collapsed.

 

The reason she collapsed was because Cheryl had gone from caressing her muscles to thwapping her supporting hand away without warning.

They were close now. Betty right on top of her, Cheryl wrapped her legs around Betty’s waist. She took hold of Betty’s face, pressed their foreheads together and scrunched her eyes closed as tight as she could. 

Cheryl couldn’t do this if she was looking at Betty. It would be too much like intimacy, too much like caring.

She pressed their lips together in an easy, breathy kiss before she spoke in a hushed tone.

“why are you trying to kill yourself?”

 

She felt Betty stiffen above her. Tensed her legs to hold her there in case she tried to bolt.

Still couldn’t open her eyes.

Couldn’t look.

 

“The only person who ever loved me, will ever love me, is dead. Right now fucking you is all I have.” Cheryl said. ‘If you die I have nothing.’ Cheryl didn't say.

 

“There's a difference between suicidal and self-destructive Cher.”

 

“Not if you're good at it.”

 

“Open your eyes.” Betty said.

 

Cheryl didn't, couldn't.

Betty thought about shouting to get her to do it. Then she thought about Cheryl's home life.

 

“please” Betty whispered.

 

That did the trick.

Cheryl opened her eyes and Betty could see that the fear was back, she was so close she couldn't see much of anything else.

But that wasn't right, the fear wasn't back.

Cheryl Blossom was always afraid. You just had to know how to see it.

 

“I still owe you two times.” Betty said softly.

 

“I thought I only had one left.”

 

Betty shrugged and almost smiled.

“You did. But you came for me tonight.” Cheryl rolled her eyes at the way Betty smirked at her own double entendre. “And I simply couldn’t die while indebted to Cheryl Blossom.”

 

Cheryl’s eyes regained their usual stoney cold focus.

“Fine. Now get me off.” Cheryl let out an annoyed breath at herself. “fucks sake. Now get off me so I can take you home.”


	8. How To Fall

When Betty got home it was dark and quiet and 3 a.m. so that wasn’t really surprising.

She sometimes wondered what would happen if something went wrong. If there was a fire or a break-in or some other emergency after she’d snuck out. She wasn’t afraid of being found out, but the consequences, they would be inconvenient.

She wasn’t afraid of being found out because Betty Cooper wasn’t afraid of anything.

She could recognise fear in others, but, when it came to herself, any time she should be afraid (or thought she should) it was always this thing she was two steps removed from. It could never quite get close enough, never manage to push through the noise in her head.

One of the joys of dissociation she thought.

 

Cheryl had asked her how she was going to explain her bruises.

“Painfully.” Was the only response she’d given, and now it was time for the painful explanation

She would have liked a shower first, wash the night off her before having to deal with anyone else but that would have been too loud, to obvious. So she just stripped down, maybe with a wince at a bruise or two, and pulled on her night clothes.

A little makeup so her black eye looks fresher than it is and she's ready to go.

 

“tuck and roll” Betty mutters to herself as she stands at the top of the stairs. “tuck and roll”

 

She pulls her body into itself as she topples forward.

She's not quiet as she falls. She needs to be heard, for this to not be a lie.

Her shoulder is the first thing to hit the stairs, jarring it painfully. She knows before she hits bottom that she'll be missing a week of baseball. It's almost as though she has some experience with this kind of thing.

She lands badly, much worse than intended, and her wrist takes the brunt of it.

She was wrong, that's a month away from baseball.

She chides herself for making such a stupid mistake as her parents rush downstairs to check on her.


	9. How To Hide Yourself

The clattering of the tray hitting the floor rang around the school cafeteria.

 

“OH MY GOD!” Veronica yelled as she broke into a sprint.

 

Maybe Betty shouldn't have avoided her friends all morning. Maybe she should have just gotten it over with as soon as possible and avoided this scene.

 

Veronica is on her in an instant, cooing and freting, fingers tracing the edges of bruises with a feather lite touch.

 

“Do you need anything? What can I get you? How can I help? What happened?” Veronica rapid fires the questions, her hands everywhere on Betty, tender comforting touches so light they’re almost not there.

 

“Hey Ronnie.” Betty said a bashful smile on her face. “I’m okay, I just…”

 

“Holy shit Betts!” Kevin said as he sat down. A sentiment echoed by Jughead and Archie. “You get into a fight?”

 

“Don’t be ridiculous Kevin!” Veronica snaps, not taking her eyes of Betty.

 

Kevin lets out a little laugh until Veronica fixes him with a death stare.

“Oh, your serious. Shit! You don’t know about Betty Cooper, Warrior Princess!”

 

Veronica was about to say something about not mocking Betty when she’s hurt but…

 

“Keeeeevvvvv” Betty’s voice had a little bit of admonishment in it as a blush crept onto her cheeks.

 

“Wait, you’re serious?” Veronica asks, flabbergasted.

 

“So, you know Todd?” Kevin asked.

 

Jughead sighed.

Archie beamed at Betty like he couldn’t be prouder of her.

Betty just looked down at her food, embarrassed by it all.

 

“Skater Todd, DnD Todd or Jock Todd?” Veronica asked back.

 

“Douche Todd.” Said Kevin.

 

“So, Jock Todd then.”

 

Kevin nods in agreement

 

Veronica mouths words without noise for a moment before turning to Betty.

“You had a fight with Douche Todd? He’s like a foot taller than you!”

 

“It’s only four inches Ronnie.” Betty mumbled.

 

“Fine. You had fight with Douche Todd? He’s like two feet taller than me!”

 

Betty laughed and gave her friend a smile.

 

“Wait! Did he do this to you?” Veronica asked, fury flashing in her eyes. “Do I need to kill him?”

 

Kevin lets out a short sharp laugh at the idea.

“Like he could! Anyway, storytime, remember Ronnie?” Veronica makes a please continue motion so Kevin continues. “About a year ago Douche Todd, and I love that we’re calling him Douche Todd now, decided he didn’t like Jughead. Very actively didn’t like Jughead.”

 

“He started punching me in the back of the head whenever he walked passed me.” Jughead said wearily.

 

“So Betty took Douche Todd aside and explained to him about how that wasn’t a very nice way to treat people.”

 

“And when that had zero effect you got in a fight with him?” Veronica interrupted.

 

“No.” Kevin wagged his finger at her. “When that had zero effect she called him out and beat the tar out of him.”

 

Veronica looked at Betty with both shock and awe.

 

“After…” Archie picked up the narrative thread. “…Douche Todd tried to play it off like he wouldn’t hit a girl, but anyone who saw it knows that wasn’t true. Betty was just tougher than him.”

 

“Betty is… a bruiser?” Veronica's tone was half mock-scandalised, half actual scandalised.

 

“It's why we're so protective of her.” Archie said. “She'll do anything to protect us.”

 

“But…” Jughead continues. “...if it's aimed at her she'll just take anything that's being dished out. Like that kid.”

 

“Ugh!” The disgust is obvious in Kevin's voice.

 

“Guys, come on.” Betty protests weakly.

 

“What kid?” Veronica's eyes sparkling at the new information.

 

“He…” And somehow Kevin managed to make the word he sound like 'degenerate scum’ “...decided to spread rumours about Betty…” He glanced at Betty, she was staring, mortified, at her plate. “...doing things with him at school.”

 

“We shut that down pretty quick.” Archie finished.

 

Betty glanced up at him through fluttering lashes, a smile briefly quirking at her lips before she looked back down.

 

Kevin and Veronica shared a look. It may have involved eyebrows. It may have been wondering about how their red headed friend could be that oblivious to Betty's feelings.

 

Archie wondered if Kevin and Veronica thought they were being subtle. No one could be as oblivious as they thought he was. He knew how Betty felt about him. That she didn't, not like that. They'd spoken about it. This was what she needed from him, his fake obliviousness to her fake feelings. He didn't understand it and he didn't know why but as part of the Betty Cooper Protection Squad (yes, they actually call themselves that) and as someone who loved his best friend, he'd agreed.

 

They were interrupted by the click-clacking of heels and a haughty snort.

Cheryl stood at their table, her eyes raking over Betty.

“What the hell happened to you?” Cheryl asked. Betty knew she meant 'you weren't this banged up when I left you’. “One of Betty's back alley boys decide they weren't paying for their fun?”

 

“Cheryl I swear…” Veronica said as she shot out of her seat, or she would have shot out of her seat if Betty hadn't placed a calming hand on her.

 

“It's okay Ronnie.” Betty said calmly.

 

“Yes, it's okay Ronnie.” Cheryl echoed, flashing Veronica the fakest smile she could.

 

“It's just Cheryl's way of showing she cares.” Betty continued before giving Cheryl a broad smile.

 

Cheryl grimaced at that, looked like she was going to gag for a moment.

“Just because this nonsense,” She gestured to Betty's injuries. “got you out of baseball, don't think you're excused from Vixens practice.”

 

“You can't be serious!” Kevin said.

 

Cheryl looked at him as though he had only just popped into existence and he should pop out again pretty darn quick.

 

“She still has her legs and I assume she can still open them.” Cheryl turned to leave. “Otherwise what would our dear Betty do for fun?”

 

“You can beat people up but you leave her alone?” Veronica said. “Never mind, I'm still stuck on the fact that you can beat people up. Mind blown. It's like finding out…” Veronica's hands wave in the air as though she's trying to grab the perfect comparison. “...it's like finding out Cheryl is a good person.”

 

“Actually…” Jughead said.

 

Veronica started to laugh until she realised everyone was being serious.

“no” She whispered incredulously.

 

“It’s just,” Jughead continued. “you know how, according to Cheryl, there’s no point in being better than someone if you can’t lord it over them. Well there are times when she’ll lord her wealth over people in a way that’s incredibly mean, but actually helpful.”

 

“Like when Ethel’s family hit a rough spot, financially.” Archie said. “She spent a week making bitchy comments about the way Ethel dressed and then turned up at her house with a completely new wardrobe for her, clothes, shoes, sports gear, everything she could need. Her only comment was ‘I just can’t stand to look at those eyesores you call outfits anymore. Their so bad they give me migraines.’ Only thing is, new sets of Ethel's old outfits were in there as well. All Cheryl did on the Monday was sniff and say 'well, I suppose that's a little better’.”

 

“And a few years ago there was a really nasty storm.” Jughead said. “It trashed our trailer park, left a lot of people with nowhere to go. A few days later when people were trying to get things back together Cheryl turns up in her car that cost more than our homes, pulls out a sunlounger and just sits there watching us like we were some sort of nature documentary. It did not go down well. She was about five minutes away from being murdered when a work crew turns up and starts fixing things, righting trailers. She had a catering company come in to feed the crew and they made way, way too much food. When someone went to her about the locals eating at her table she lowered her sunglasses and said ‘If I want a security guard I’ll hire one.’ I know it was the best food some of the people there had ever had. By the time they were done the trailer park was in the best condition it had ever been in. Everything had been fixed, and on top of that we now have a pool and free wi-fi. When the work was done she stood up, took out a megaphone, an actual megaphone and yelled ‘I AM YOUR QUEEN NOW.” Then she just left. Hasn’t been back since.”

 

“When I came out,” Kevin said. “she made this big announcement in front of the whole school. Literally the whole school. She told everyone that we’re not friends, that she can’t stand me. Spent a solid seven and a half minutes insulting me, I timed it. She ended it with ‘But if any of you think that Kevin Keller being gay makes him an easy target for you then no girl in Riverdale will touch you. No girl will speak to you. We will spit everytime your name is mentioned.’ And walked away.”

 

Veronica sat there, utterly unable to compute what she had learnt.

 

Betty rubbed her back and pressed her lips to Veronica’s temple.

“It’s okay Ronnie, she’s still a terrible person.”

 

That’s when Betty received a text. 

One word.

'tonight’. 

She glanced over to Cheryl and gave the smallest nod of her head.


	10. How To Not Care About Someone

“What happened?” Cheryl asked.

 

“You asked, I came.” Betty responded.

 

Cheryl rolled her eyes.

“First, we're at yours for some ungodly reason. This dress is cashmere, I'll never get the stink of middle class out of it. So I asked, then I came to you. Second you know exactly what I mean. Why are you more damaged now than last night?”

 

“Well thank you for coming to me. We're at mine because I have the place to myself for three days while my parents are away and I threw myself down the stairs.”

 

“What? Why would you do that? What is wrong with you?”

 

“I needed a reason for my injuries.” Betty was being infuriatingly calm.

 

“And you couldn't just say you fell down the stairs?”

 

“I needed the noise, it had to be real to sell it. Plus have you ever seen me try to lie? I'm terrible at it!”

 

“You lie to people constantly!”

 

“When?” Betty was confused by that.

 

Cheryl just waved her arms around madly, her gesture meant to encompass all of Betty.

“About your entire self!”

 

“No I don't. I just don't tell people everything. I can skirt around something but I can't just lie, it's so obvious when I do.”

 

“Fucking hell! Really, what is wrong with you?”

 

“Well, I dissociate a lot and I think I enjoy it far more than I should.”

 

Cheryl just stood there, staring at her until Betty shoved her back against the wall and sank her teeth into Cheryl’s shoulder.

 

It ended up with Cheryl a disheveled, panting mess. Her clothes half on, half off and her legs barely able to support her. Betty scooped her up and carried her up the stairs with ease, gently depositing Cheryl on her bed.

The post orgasm floaty feeling combined with the pink of Betty’s bedroom made Cheryl feel like she was drifting through a marshmallow.

As Betty began to move away she felt cold, slender finger wrap around her wrist and tug her back.

The heavy, blissed out look in Cheryl’s eyes made Betty smile.

 

“We have three days Cher, you might wanna pace yourself.”

 

But the tugging was insistent. 

 

“Fine.” Betty said as she mounted, well, as she mounted both the bed and Cheryl with one swing of her leg.

 

Betty was pulled down into a deep, lazy kiss and she shivered as Cheryl’s cold fingers slipped under her top and danced over her skin.

This was different. For all the times they had been, not intimate, intimate’s the wrong word, let’s go with physical. For all the times they had been physical with each other it was always Betty’s hands on Cheryl. Betty pressing, pinching, probing her. For all that Betty had been over every inch of Cheryl’s skin, Cheryl had never seen Betty naked, never explored her body. Never run her fingers over the raised skin Betty’s upper inner thighs.

 

“There are a lot of ways to self harm, but not so many people won’t see.” Betty said with a strained voice when Cheryl looked up at her from between her thighs. She followed it up with a mewling, squeaking noise when Cheryl ran her tongue along the scars.

 

It was different. They had more time, more space, more privacy than they’d had before. It didn’t need to be the frantic, urgent thing it had always been before. It was still a frantic urgent thing, but a different kind of frantic, a different kind of urgent. They lay next to each other on the bed, naked and spent. A very carefully constructed space between them so they weren’t touching. Weren’t treating this like an intimate moment between lovers. But it’s not enough, the silence too close to a comfortable, easy thing. It doesn’t create the distance between them they want to maintain.

So Betty shifted her position and looked at Cheryl. Looked at the dark bruise wrapped around her upper arm. She’d seen it earlier but didn’t take it in, was distracted by… other things. Her fingers slide over the discoloured flesh without pressure. She doesn’t want to cause Cheryl pain. Not that kind of pain.

 

“I didn’t do that.” Betty said.

 

Cheryl turned to look at Betty. The way her mouth had tightened. The attempt at an ‘I’m not concerned at all honest’ expression on her face. She really was a terrible liar.

 

“Family breakfast.” Cheryl said. “Mother thought it was time to remind me how she should have drowned me at birth.”

 

“Cheryl I…”

 

Cheryl stopped her with a roll of her eyes and an ‘ugh’.

“I’m not a little girl Cooper.” Cheryl practically spat the words. “I don’t need you to pat my head and tell me it’ll all be okay. I don’t come to you for pity.” Cheryl mounted Betty then, her red hair falling down, hiding both of their faces from the world. “I come to you for that very particular mix of pain and pleasure you do so well.”

 

Betty’s fingers ran through Cheryl’s hair. Nails scratching at her scalp. Fist closing. Pulling. Wincing in pain. Betty had tried to use her bad wrist.

She let out a long breath at the sharp stabbing she felt.

 

“Fucks sake Betty. My pain, not yours.”

 

Cheryl pushed herself off the bed and left the room. She hadn’t bothered to put any clothes on. While she listened to Cheryl’s footsteps as they retreated downstairs Betty prodded gingerly at her wrist. Each touch making her wince.

You’d think the pain might have made her stop. It didn’t, not until Cheryl returned.

Betty took the ice pack that Cheryl had made up for her and had to suppress a smile at the thought of her wondering around the kitchen naked.

“Thanks.” She said with yet another wince as she pressed it against her wrist.

 

“You know Betty, if you could avoid your self destruction and interfering with my self destruction I'd really appreciate it.”

 

“I wasn't planning on getting into a fight.”

 

Cheryl raised an eyebrow.

 

“I wasn't! You think I want my season messed up like this? I was…”

 

“Don't know.” Cheryl interrupted. “Don't need to know. Don't care.” Cheryl sat back down on the bed. “You can't pull my hair, you can't slap me. You may as well sit on my face.” Cheryl lay down. “At least then your thighs will muffle whatever inane thing you choose to prattle on about.”

 

Betty shrugged and sat on Cheryl's face.

  
  


Betty needed a shower. She knew she should have one but eh, whatever. She was enjoying herself, lying in her bed luxuriating in the worn away, blissed out feeling that seemed to be oozing out of every cell in her body.

 

“A diary?” Cheryl's voice. That was Cheryl's voice.

 

“hmmm?” Betty looked at her through orgasm blurred eyes. The light that seeped through the crack in the curtains made Cheryl's pale skin luminescent.

 

“Living dangerously Cooper, leaving this out with me around.”

 

“You can read it if you want.”

 

Cheryl made a surprised noise and Betty could hear her flipping through the pages.

Betty's eyes drifted closed and all she could hear was the periodic turning of a page.

Until Cheryl put the book down with a snort.

 

“Well this is all nonsense.”

 

“hmmm?”

 

“Oh no! I love Archie so much but I don't think he loves me back! I do so wonder what sex will be like! I think these pastels may be a little too dark for me! Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to kiss Veronica! Well, that last one might be true.”

 

“My mom reads it. It's how she found out about the whole Archie Grundy thing. Promised she'd stop but that was a lie. So it's a combination of what she expects, what she wants and what I want her to think.”

 

Cheryl let out a little laugh.

“So you can’t lie but you’re a master manipulator? How very Betty Cooper.”

 

Betty pushed herself up onto her elbows. Eyes still half closed, hair falling over half her face and a slight pink tinge still dusted her cheeks. As the blanket slowly slid down her body Cheryl wanted to jump her again. No. Cheryl wanted Betty to jump her again. To feel those strong hands gripping at her too hard, tossing her around, bending her to the edge of breaking. But that might not happen now. Not after Betty’s reaction to her arm and her mother’s words. That might just be relegated to the large and ever growing catalogue of things her family has ruined.

 

“It just makes things easier.” Betty said as she got to her feet. “Makes her more likely to only try and fix things I can give her results on.” She walked over to Cheryl. “Keeps her out of the things I want her away from.” Gently ran her fingers through Cheryl’s hair. “Gives her just enough rope to not be able to hang me.” Remembering to use her not-fucked-up wrist fully slapped Cheryl across the face.

 

Pain blossomed in Cheryl’s face and her lips turned up into a happy smile. This was what she was here for. It was going to be a good three days, shame they had to be interrupted by school.


	11. How To Implode

It had been a long, long day. Too long. The kind of long that made Betty think that maybe cheerleading, baseball, the school paper and auto-repair were a little bit too much together. She had been at the Blue and Gold again. And been kicked out by the custodial staff so they could actually lock up the school. Again. Which came after baseball, which came after cheerleading, all of which came before fixing Archies car. Again. That boy really needed to learn how to take care of his car, but Betty Cooper was nothing if not someone who always said yes.

She was covered in a layer of dried sweat.

And then another layer of dried sweat.

And then a layer of sweat and grease and grime.

And Alice was talking at her. Betty wasn’t paying attention, couldn’t focus so she just smiled and nodded, hoping it was the right response. All she wanted to do was hose the day off and collapse.

Apparently smiling and nodding wasn’t the right answer because Alice rolled her eyes and made a ‘fine, go on then’ gesture so Betty carried on up the stairs.

 

It had been a bad, bad day. Very bad. It had began with her parents. Bad things often began with her parents. The only one good thing that had ever began with her parents.

Jason. 

And look at how well that turned out. 

When she had felt her father’s hand, heavy on her shoulder, his grip tight. Too tight. Painfully tight as he told her how everything would be better if she’d died instead of Jason. It made her want to skip breakfast, to get out, get away as fast as possible but it felt like giving in. It felt like letting her parents win. And whatever else happened Cheryl was a Blossom. And Blossoms don’t let other people win.

At school the only thing that got her through the day was the thought of Betty’s hands around her throat. She would rest her hand at the base of her neck so she could press and squeeze. It was the only way she could focus on anything, choking herself without anyone noticing. Almost anyone.

At lunch her gaze lingered on Betty for longer than it should have. On the way Veronica as preening over Betty like always when Betty looked at her, holding the gaze for a moment before dropping it to the hand at her throat and back up with raised eyebrows.

She got a text then

.

need me tonight?

 

Yes, yes, desperately yes. 

But.

But Cheryl, somehow, knew Betty Cooper’s fucking schedule. Knew how busy she was. Knew that she only had one time left with her. Ever since that second second time they’d always hovered at the two times to go, one of them finding some reason or other why that didn’t count, but it had finally dropped to one.

When that was done, they were done.

Cheryl needed them not to be done.

So she gave a small shake of her head.

 

now?

 

A smile and a shake of her head.

 

She shouldn't have gone home.

She really, really shouldn't have gone home.

Her mother was in one of her moods, only exacerbated by the alcohol, all quiet fury and sharp words. It culminated in a slap. It was not a slap she enjoyed.

Then her father. Loud voice and rough hands yelling about how she set her mother off.

Then she shouldn't have stayed through dinner.

Every poison glance, every barbed comment was another fissure in her skin. By the end of the meal there were so many cracks in her, she felt like cheap foundation, badly applied after a long day.

Only when it was over did she leave. When the comments had run dry and the plates were cleared away, the price for existing in this family paid.

She walked out of Thornhill and kept walking.

She could feel parts of herself leaking out. Who she was, peeling and flaking away with each step she took.

She liked to think that if she walked far enough, if she took enough steps, every part of her would fall away and get swept up into the wind. Let her disappear with a breeze.

But it never happened and so she kept walking.

Until she stopped.

Then she was climbing.

Until she wasn't.

Then she was collapsing in on herself. Sinking down and down and down.

Becoming an implosion of a person.

 

All Betty was thinking about was hot water beating down on her. Yeah, sometimes she worried about taking on too much, stretching herself so thin and taught that every part of her might just snap and twang away. But then there were these moments when it was quiet, when the constant work and exhaustion had worn the noise away.

Betty closed her bedroom door and leant against it, closing her eyes she let out a long, satisfied breath before she flipped the light on.

As the light flickered to life Betty opened her eyes, squeaked and nearly jumped out of her skin.

There was a ball of Cheryl curled up and silently sobbing on the floor under her desk.

At the sight of Cheryl, Betty could feel the noise in her head rising up from wherever it went. A seething, slithering thing thats tendrils oozed through her, coiled around her veins and tendons. Coating the world in static as it shrieked and screamed at her. It didn’t use words, not really. It tended to echo her own voice back at her. From somewhere in her head that was far, far away, through the fuzz and the haze of the static, Betty heard it speak with far more clarity than it ever had before.

_ (mine) _

“shut up” Betty muttered through clenched teeth as she slowly approached Cheryl. “Cheryl?”

 

No response.

 

She wasn’t dead, Betty knew that much. 

Corpses don’t cry. 

How could she cry silently? 

That is something you would have to learn. If she did learn that then...

The noise in Betty’s head tightened its grip on her at the thought. Raged for release and destruction.

 

“Cheryl?” Betty repeated. She kept her voice low and calm. Cheryl was the only thing not coated in static.

 

Cheryl's eyes flicked to Betty and then flicked away.

 

The noise screamed again. Blotted out everything that wasn't Cheryl and rage.

_ You're not helping _

Betty thought.

_ You're not helping and she needs help I have to help her _

She was right. The noise receded. Not entirely, she could feel it prowling, circling her. But it gave her some distance, allowed some clarity, let the static fade.

 

“Cheryl?” Betty held her hands open and up, palms facing Cheryl. “Can I touch you?”

 

Cheryl lifted her head and the noise howled at the bruise on her cheek, at the dark marks on her neck. It howled but it didn't push forward, it just kept circling.

 

Cheryl gave her the slightest of nods.

 

Slowly Betty moved forward, her fingers gentle against Cheryl's trembling, sweat soaked skin.

 

“You're safe here with me.” Gradually Betty increased their contact until Cheryl was wrapped up in her. She flowed around Cheryl, radiating warmth and calm and safety.

 

“You know,” Betty said, brushing the hair away from Cheryl's face. “you'll never get the stink of middle class out of these clothes.”

 

Cheryl made a gurgly snorting sound at that.

 

“Now, we're gonna get you in a nice, hot bath okay?”

 

Cheryl nodded.

 

Betty took Cheryl's face in her palms. “I'll be right back.” Pressed their foreheads together. “Promise.”

 

Cheryl feels Betty slip away from her. The warmth that enveloped her being replaced by the cold that she lives in. She's vaguely aware of Betty moving around as she gets the extra towels and clothes she needs. The door opening and Betty calling downstairs.

 

“Mom, I'm going to take a bath.”

 

There is a response, a brief back and forth, Cheryl isn't tuned into it but it lets Betty know where everyone in the house is, lets Betty know she can get Cheryl to the bath unseen.

 

Then Cheryl was scooped up in Betty's arms as though she were weightless. All huddled up and pressed into Betty's chest she starts to feel like she can breath again. Her fists grip at Betty's top, clenching and unclenching again and again. Trying to get used to movement after so much stillness.

 

Then she's sitting on the edge of the bathtub, vanilla scented steam filling the air. 

Later Cheryl wondered, when her thoughts were working again, if it was deliberate.

Betty Cooper, with her vanilla milkshakes and her vanilla scents is the most vanila girl you will ever meet. 

Right up to the point where she fucks you.

 

And her clothes are being pulled off, slowly with Betty talking her through the whole thing, easing her through every motion, checking and rechecking for permission.

Lifting her up into a close embrace before lowering her down into the not quite scalding water.

And Cheryl melts.

Her skin sloughs off her body, her cells lose cohesion and drift away until there is nothing left of her.

But there are still sensations.

It's an odd experience, still feeling the world around you when you when you don't have a body.

The heat of the water prickled at her.

Steam flowing around her like her breath.

The warmth of a body circling her, holding on as though worried she would just float away.

 

Cheryl leant back into Betty and sank down into the water with a sigh. Her hands rested on the legs wrapped around her waist, Betty's fingers stroking her hair, her skin, carefully avoiding anywhere that was bruised or would be indecent. 

The bruises were a lot more plentiful than the indecency.

 

That was the moment Betty knew why Cheryl was so insistent that the Vixens always had long sleeves on their uniforms. Was always ready for practice before anyone else arrived. Finished after everyone else had left. Yes Betty had been over every inch of Cheryl with teeth and tongue but this was only the second time they’d actually been naked together. The first time Cheryl didn’t actually go home for three days and there had always been a few bruises peppered here and there but it had never been this bad. 

She’d never seen Cheryl shut down before either.

 

So Betty Cooper did what Betty Cooper does. 

She became the protective giantess that people thought of when they thought of her. She was gentle and caring and soft and cooing. And Cheryl just couldn’t take it. 

Betty felt it through her chest, through the ripples in the water, the trembling flesh against her thighs. Cheryl’s body was wracked with sobs. Dirty great ugly things. She turned over and buried her head in Betty's chest, boobs muffling her anguished noise.

This was wrong.

Cheryl knew that this was wrong.

This was not how she should be treated. It was too soft, too kind, too much like she was a person.

 

Betty held her and stroked her and, when Cheryl was ready, scrubbed her clean, massaged shampoo and conditioner into her scalp.

All the while the noise in her head stalked around the room.

Not pushing, never pushing, but bouncing the occasional word off the inside of Betty's head.

Words like

_ (mine) _

_ (fix) _

_ (help) _

_ (deal with it) _

It didn't need to say ' _ or I will _ '.

  
  
  
  


“i should go.” Cheryl said.

 

She was dried and dressed and back in Betty’s bedroom.

 

“go where?” Betty asked.

 

“i do have a home you know, i’m not some street urchin.” Cheryl was starting to sound like herself again.

 

“jesus cher, you are not going back there!”

 

“fucking hell cooper!” Cheryl shout whispered. “i already told you i don’t need saving and i sure as shit don’t want your pity.”

 

“it’s not pity, it’s concern.” Betty said, Cheryl snorted. “You don’t have to stay here, you could stay with ronnie, or archie, or ginger.”

 

“my business is none of fucking theirs!” Cheryl snarled, the effect somewhat dulled by the fact that both girls had to whisper.

 

“then stay with me.” Betty could feel the noise buffeting her around anxiously. “could you please stop letting your self-destruction get in the way of my self-destruction.”

 

Cheryl glared at Betty. Then Cheryl rolled her eyes at Betty. Then Cheryl huffed at Betty.

 

“fine. do you have any clothes an adult would wear? I feel like a cartoon marshmallow and you’re taking me somewhere.” Cheryl was wearing Betty's clothes, a pair of light blue jeans and a pastel pink jumper. They were too large for her, not in the drowning in fabric way they were for Veronica, just baggy. She still made it look effortlessly attractive. (Cheryl put in a lot of effort to look both effortlessly attractive and effortfully attractive depending on the situation.)

 

“i don't think i've ever seen you in jeans before.”

 

“that's because i have taste.” She said as she climbed back out of Betty's window.


	12. How To Go Back

Betty was driving.

Betty was driving because Cheryl didn't have her car with her.

Betty had never been so happy to be parked on the street in her life.

She really didn't want anyone in the house to know she was gone.

Speaking of not knowing, she also didn't know where they were going.

“Where I should have gone to begin with.”

Is all Cheryl would say about their destination.

So they travelled in silence, other than the occasional direction Cheryl gave.

 

“Here.” Cheryl said when they reached the woods.

 

“If you'd just said the woods it would have been easier.”

 

“And what about me has ever been easy Cooper?”

 

Betty didn't say anything.

Cheryl could see what she wasn't saying.

 

“Come on.” Cheryl said with a roll of her eyes.

 

She used the torch on her phone to make her way through the darkness and after nearly losing Betty she took her hand to keep her close.

Cheryl didn't put a foot wrong, didn't look around, just kept moving until they came to a small clearing.

 

In the centre of the clearing were two trees too close together, all tangled up in each other. One looked perfect for climbing. One did not.

 

Cheryl let go of Betty then and headed straight for the trees, giving the non-climbing one a pat.

Then she surprised Betty. (Not that any of this was anything less than surprising.)

 

Cheryl placed one hand flat against the climbing tree, touched her forehead to it.

“Hey Jay-Jay.” She said before climbing up into its branches. 

“You coming?” When Betty looked hesitant Cheryl added, “Don't worry, Jay-Jay would never let you fall.”

 

Cheryl held the light for Betty and Betty, while being unsure of what was going on, climbed up and sat next to Cheryl.

 

“These,” Cheryl said gesturing to the two trees, “are Jason and Cheryl.”

 

“You named trees after yourselves?”

 

“How could we not? They’re so tangled up in each other, so necessary for each other. Jason” she patted the tree they were sitting on, “is so strong and supportive and Cheryl.” Cheryl cocked her head to the tree named Cheryl, “Cheryl’s a bitch.”

 

Betty snorted at that.

 

“She really is, you know my scar?” Cheryl asked.

 

“This one?” Betty slipped her hand under the jumper Cheryl was wearing and ran her cold fingers along the scar under Cheryl’s ribs. It made Cheryl shiver and gasp.

 

“Ahhh, that’s the one. She gave it to me. This is our place, mine and Jason’s. No one else ever knew about it. It’s where we could come, just the two of us. We didn’t have to be Blossoms here. Didn’t have to be the golden boy, didn’t have to be the bitch. It was our sanctuary. I can still remember the day we found this place.”

 

Betty moved in closer, bodies flush, and rested her head on Cheryl's shoulder.

“Tell me about it.”


	13. How To Be Unloved

“We were ten. Three important things happened that day. We found this place, our place. I got my scar. (Betty ran her fingers along the scar teasingly.) 

Do you want to tease me or do you want me to tell you? (Both.) Anyway, I got that scar. Yes, that scar you apparently can’t stop playing with now. And I realised my parents had never loved me. (Betty stopped teasing her.) Please, I came to terms with that a long time ago.

Family day out. It was the thing to do, showed how much you pretended to care about your kids. So Jason and I were playing together. We were always playing together. And we wondered further than we were supposed to. If we’d had good parents they might have kept an eye on us or come looking for us but we had our parents. So we kept going and we found this place, these trees and they were just so perfect. 

The way they intertwined.

The way they were both individual and the same.

They were us, me and Jay-Jay.

Immediately Jason shot up his tree. This tree. And I was never one to be outdone so I began climbing up Cheryl there. And Cheryl is not as kind as Jason, she won’t support or help you. She’ll just throw you off and tell you to go fuck yourself. (Betty made the audible equivalent of an eye roll.)

I am well aware of how well they work as metaphors for us. Cheryl threw me off and hit me as much as she could on the way down. Ripped right through me. (Betty's fingers returned to her scar.)

Jason was horrified, scrambled down as fast as he could. I didn't know what to do. Cry or act like I was fine. Even then I was stuck between drama queen and stubborn bitch. So I did both.

Poor Jay-Jay, he was frantic, so afraid for me. I had to stop crying so he could calm down. So like him. He never could make a good decision when someone he loved was hurt.

Do you know what my parents did when we got back to them?

When they saw their little girl wearing a dress soaked in her own blood?

My mother slapped me across the face and screamed at me for being so reckless because what if something like that happened to Jason?

A hospital would have been too embarrassing, so they called the family doctor and took us home where I got screamed at for getting blood on the interior of the car.


	14. How To Do Something New

Betty didn’t say anything, because, really, what could she say?

The noise in her head is quiet too. Not silent, not gone, but a probing kind of quiet and then Betty could feel the weight of it on her back. 

Pushing her into Cheryl.

Not the harsh jagged movements or the crushing pressure she’s used to. More of a gentle urging. She’d never known the noise in her head to be gentle about anything.

So she leant into Cheryl, wrapped Cheryl up in herself, felt the noise in her head doing the same thing to both of them.

It was an odd feeling, Betty was so used to having an adversarial relationship with the noise that them coming together like this was, was, well, she didn’t know what it was (the same could be said about Her and Cheryl in that moment as well).

 

Cheryl sat there, curled into Betty, holding on to her like she was scared the other girl might just fade away.

For the first time since Jason’s death she felt, not safe, but like safe was a possibility.

 

“fuck” she exhaled, her voice so light that the slightest breeze would have carried it away.

 

“What?” Betty said as she stroked Cheryl’s hair.

 

“Nothing.” Cheryl lied.

 

Well, this was less than ideal. If this carried on she might end up with some sort of feeling about Betty, and Cheryl Blossom didn’t do feelings.

 

“We should go.” Cheryl said as she untangled herself from Betty.

 

“You know you’re staying at mine right?” Betty asked as the climbed down.

 

“Whatever.”

 

After that night neither of them mentioned their trysts with reference to paying back a debt or only having so many times left again.


	15. How To Clear Your Head

Archie was… there, and saying… things. It was just the two of them at lunch today and Betty couldn’t focus. Veronica wasn’t there to smooth her out and Cheryl.

Cheryl was. There. But not.

Cheryl was there at her usual table with Ginger and Tina and paying exactly zero attention to Betty. The kind of zero attention that seems casual but you have to put effort into avoiding that one particular person.

Cheryl had been avoiding her since her break down. It was kind of expected. It was incredibly unhelpful. It was Cheryl. It was particularly impressive how she still managed to do it at Vixens practice without making it obvious to anyone who wasn’t Betty.

The noise wasn’t happy. Too much time without Cheryl. Too much time without other distractions. No softness of Veronica to occupy it. 

It pushed into Betty, collapsed over her, drown out most of the noise in the room.

Betty remembered the taste of cock in her mouth, the feel of doing that at school. She had the strongest urge to get Archie to bend her over the table and fuck her just so she could watch everyone react to it.

_ nope nope nope _

She dug her nails into her palms and stood up muttering something about cramps and feeling bloated. 

 

“Betts?” Archie said as she turned to leave.

 

He threw her a chocolate bar when she looked back. Betty caught it, mouthed a thank you as she hurried to leave.

 

Betty wasn’t a clumsy person. With how much she focused on physical activities if she were particularly clumsy she probably would have lost a limb by now. So you wouldn’t expect her to barge shoulder first into some lockers. But then she’s the same girl who recently ‘fell’ down the stairs, and, like she said to Cheryl, there’s more than one way to self harm.

It was her own fault. It was all her own stupid fault. If she could have just fallen down the stairs properly and not injured her wrist she could have gone to batting practice. Could have worked on a car. Could have taken a trip to Greendale. 

Not that she couldn’t take a trip but she didn’t like to look for hookups when she couldn’t defend herself properly. Just in case.

Betty really needed some coping mechanisms that didn’t require her wrist.

She could feel the noise crashing against her, trying to buffet her from side to side.

She just kept walking, not really paying attention to anything and letting her mind slip into the throbbing in her shoulder.

Then she was smacking into a door, stumbling into a bathroom.

Panic began to rise in Betty. This was new. The noise in her head had never managed to be that forceful before. Just as the panic was about to take hold the door swung open and Cheryl walked in.

 

“you pushed me?” Betty muttered to herself. “oh thank god.”

 

Cheryl gave her a questioning look.

 

“It doesn’t matter. So, have you stopped pretending I don’t exist?”

 

Cheryl stared at Betty silently for a moment.

 

“You’re falling apart.” She said, ignoring Betty’s question.

 

“I…” Betty began but shut up the second the door began to open again.

 

A girl two years younger walked in on them.

Again.

She still vividly remembered the last time she walked in on them.

She turned around and left.

 

Cheryl smirked.

Betty let out a little chuckle before sighing and shrugging her shoulders.

 

“Yeah, I guess I am.” The noise had stopped pushing at her the second Cheryl had walked in the room. Instead it was quiet and anticipating. It brushed around Betty with a… gentility? Let’s go with gentility. Betty had never felt anything like it before. The noise in her head was always sharp, jagged edges, screaming and hate.

Apparently the one thing they agreed on was Cheryl Blossom.

 

Cheryl put her hand to Betty’s cheek with a blink and you’ll miss it look of concern passing over her face.

Betty tilted her head into the touch, ran the fingers of her good hand through Cheryl’s hair. She was going to make a fist. To yank hard. But. But it didn’t feel right. And the noise prowled around her, wrapped itself around her fingers, but didn’t put any pressure there, didn’t cry out seeking pain. It left her lost for a moment. She was so used to the thing she should do being the thing it didn’t want to do that without the conflict she froze.

Only for a moment. Only until Cheryl took her hand and led her into one of the stalls.

And that was it.

With Cheryl’s head pressed into her shoulder. Breath hot on her neck. Fingers wet and hot and being squeezed together while Cheryl let out little panting gasps in an attempt to stay quiet as she came.

Betty had never felt more at peace.


	16. How To Find Someone Else

It felt too much like dependency. That was the problem. 

That and it was clearly a bad thing.

The noise in her head only ever wanted bad things. Only ever wanted her to be in pain or to break things. So when they both wanted the same thing, the same person, it could only be a bad thing.

That’s why she did it. That’s why she went there. That’s why, as soon as her wrist healed, Betty found herself back in Greendale.

She had that itchy, crawly feeling all over her skin and needed to burn it all away and Cheryl came with strings now.

Well, Cheryl came pretty easily, at least in Betty’s experience.

Betty needed to be gentle with Cheryl now. Not just be another point of pain and violence to her.

Cheryl wanted the pain. Wanted Betty to twist her body just that bit too much, hold on to her just that bit too tight.

(“Somewhere in my head pain and affection got tangled up in each other. Can’t imagine how that happened.”)

So Betty went to Greendale. And Betty found a house party. She was certainly on the younger side of the guests there. 

Good.

She felt the need for some good old fashioned degradation.

She didn't drink. Didn't feel the need to lower her inhibitions, didn't trust the people around her not to do anything with it.

She wanted to be clear for this. Well, as clear as she could be with the noise in her head snarling at her and the vague fuzz of static that had settled over everything. 

Wanted to remember the taste and the smell, the pressure against her outside and in.

It’s a shame life can never be as simple as you want it to be.

It all fell apart when she was on her knees with two random guys.

One was rubbing his erection through his jeans and the other was fucking her face.

 

Cheryl was afraid. 

But she was used to that.

She was also at home (she was used to that too).

And she was feeling uneasy (not so used to that).

About Betty (not used to that at all).

Betty had been treating her like she was going to break, and, yeah, okay, to be fair, she had.

But that was her parents. That was her brother. That was the world beating down against her again and again and again.

Betty, the way it had been with Betty, had been helping to hold her together. That was what she needed. What Betty needed too. But Betty had been off. Her looks holding a little too long. Zoning out a little too much. A not-the-fun-kind of emptiness to her eyes.

It seemed to Cheryl like Betty Cooper was spiraling and trying to make sure no one noticed.

Cheryl checked her phone.

“of fucking course” she mutter to herself

 

Betty wasn’t really aware of the door opening. If she were she probably wouldn’t have cared anyway, but she was so many steps removed from herself at that point that she wasn’t really aware of anything. It wasn’t even a static she was seeing through anymore, it was more like looking through a camera smeared with vaseline and all of the noise she could hear was floating in from a different building.

She knew her body existed. That it was doing something. With someone. But that was about it.

 

“Jesus fucking Christ, not this shit again!”

 

It wasn’t the words that reached her, it was the voice. 

She knew that voice.

 

“No, I will not ‘join in or get out’.”

 

The noise in her head knew that voice as well.

 

“Get your dick out of her mouth before I cut it off.”

 

Cheryl. That was Cheryl’s voice. She didn’t sound pleased.

 

“If you touch me I will end you.”

 

Whatever conversation had been going on was interrupted by the sound of Betty gagging and gasping as she pushed some guys hips away from her face.

She was panting and light headed. 

How long had she been doing that? How long since she last took a proper breath? Betty wondered as she pushed herself unsteadily to her feet.

 

“Cher?” Betty’s voice was cracked and raspy.

 

“We. Are. Leaving.” Cheryl said.

 

“Look,” said the guy who wasn’t face fucking Betty, “she is having a good time and you clearly need to relax so…” He took a step towards Cheryl

 

That is why he didn’t get to finish his sentence.

There was a sudden sharp pain and the sound of splintering wood as Betty slammed him through the door.

She stayed on her feet, he did not.

He looked like he was about say something that would be neither nice or productive so Betty stamped down on his ribs.

Once.

Twice.

Thrice.

And she heard a sickeningly satisfying snap. Now he could be the one panting for air.

 

“We. Are. Leaving.” Betty echoed Cheryl’s words, not yet able to form her own.

A hand in hers.

Fingers intertwining.

And Cheryl is leading her to the stairs.

 

It was the noise in her head that did that but it also wasn't. That was the problem.

She had felt it, curling around her limbs, pouring down her throat, but it was her strength she felt in the stomp.

 

_ That wasn't me (yes it was) _

_ I couldn't do that (but you did) _

_ I would not (but you did) _

_ You pushed (I followed) _

 

At the bottom of the stairs Betty could still taste the cock in her mouth. Still feel it pushing against the back of her throat. And she can't. She just can't anymore.

She grabbed a bottle of vodka as they passed it and drank, but it wasn't enough. So she gargled with it and spat it out onto the carpet to a chorus of curses as the bottle slipped from her fingers. And then it was there. The one question she always tried to avoid. Pretended she didn't know the answer to.

Just how fucked up am I?

The answer crashed down around her.

The weight of it crushing her.

Cheryl's hand, Cheryl moving her forward and out the door was all that kept her on her feet.

Cheryl bundled Betty into the car. It was easy, there was no resistance. In that moment Cheryl could have done anything she wanted, Betty was as malleable as clay. 

What she wanted was to get Betty away from that place.


	17. How To Come Back

“I didn't call you.” Betty said, her voice small and hollow as it bounced around the car.

 

“No.” Cheryl said, her eyes on the road, hands holding the steering wheel in a death grip.

 

“Why?”

 

“Because I remember what happened the last time you were in Greendale.”

 

“I didn't need you to get me.” Betty lied.

 

“No.” Cheryl's voice was even, the kind of even you end up with when you're trying not to scream. “You were just happy letting a bunch of random guys fuck you while you were unconscious.”

 

“I wasn't unconscious.”

 

“You didn't know I was in the room. You didn't know what you were doing. You didn't even know who I was at first. You. Were. Un-fucking-conscious.”

 

Betty didn't say anything.

 

“Did you even know what you were doing when you curb stomped that guy?”

 

“that was me” Betty's voice was shaky and cracking. “That was me. I did that and I knew. That was, that, that's was me. I had to and he would have and I wanted to and that was me. I did that I, I, I…”

 

And then Betty wasn't breathing.

And then she was and there wasn't enough air in the car, world, universe.

And she was falling. And she had no skin. And everything was pouring out of her. And she was shattering into pieces. And tainted. And corrupt. And so so broken.

It was her.

And she couldn't.

And there were hands on her.

And they were pulling.

And there was air.

 

Betty wasn’t crying.

But she was very much in the middle of a breakdown.

That much was beyond obvious to Cheryl as she pulled the car over and away from the road.

Apparently it was impossible for the two of them to make the journey from Greendale to Riverdale uninterrupted.

Betty was muttering to herself, going through the same phrases over and over.

And it wasn’t breaking Cheryl’s heart.

It wasn’t breaking Cheryl’s heart because Cheryl didn’t care but…

And fuck the word but, just, just fuck it, it has never been anything other than a massive fucking inconvenience.

But…

Betty didn’t know the car had stopped. Didn’t know Cheryl had gotten out. Didn’t know Cheryl had opened the passenger side door. Didn’t know anything until there were hands on her.

Gently easing her out of the car and standing her up.

Cheryl ran her hand over Betty’s cheek, her touch so achingly soft but…

No. That wouldn’t do. That wasn’t them.

So she slapped Betty instead. It was much more effective.

 

“What the fuck Cooper? What happened to using me to burn this shit out of you? What happened to burning it the fuck out of me? What? You see a few bruises and all of a sudden I’m too delicate to touch the way I want you to? The way you want to?”

 

Betty didn’t say anything.

 

“WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME?” Cheryl screamed as she shoved Betty’s shoulders.

 

Something fizzled in the back of Betty’s head.

The noise curled around her arms. Slipped inside her fingers. Grabbed Cheryl's wrists.

Betty turned them around. Shoved Cheryl against the side of the car. Lifted her wrists up and back, pinning them to the roof of the car with one hand, forcing Cheryl to arch her back.

It hurt, twisted her body in ways it shouldn't. But it was the right kind of hurt. Just on the edge. That would leave an ache, not an injury but only by a matter of millimetres.

Cheryl's lips parted as she lifted her head and smiled a wicked smile. Her breath was strained, her body bent in all the wrong angles.

Betty’s free hand slipped under the skirt of her dress and ran up the outside of her thigh, over her hips, up her ribs, dragging the dress up as well until Betty got to the band of Cheryl’s bra.

Then she raked her nails all the way back down. She didn’t draw blood, but it was like Cheryl’s shoulders, only by a breath.

Cheryl yelped a happy yelp and Betty kicked her feet apart.

She would have fallen then, and that would have done something horrible to her arms.

But she didn’t, Betty’s hand had moved from her thigh to her throat, holding her up as she regained her balance.

Once her feet were beneath her again Betty’s hand didn’t move, but her thigh did.

Cheryl almost wept when it pushed against her clit.

It was all just so fucking perfect.

She was so taught and strained and stretched out right up until she wasn’t.

Right up until she was uncoiling and slumping forward into Betty, into her strong arms.

Betty was trembling. She was still so broken from her night. From her life. From her.

When Cheryl put her in the back seat Betty grabbed at her, alone wasn’t something she could handle there and then.

There may have been a roll of the eyes at that, but it was entirely out of obligation and without a trace of malice to it. So Cheryl laid Betty down on the back seat, sat on the floor beside her. Stroked her hair and whispered sweet words into her ear.

Betty trembled. Tears ran down her cheeks. Sharp, broken sounds bubbled in her throat.

 

“do you want me to?” Cheryl asked, her voice soft as Merino wool.

 

A nod and a gulp.

 

Cheryl's fingers were smooth and soft and easy as they slid up Betty's thigh.

She kept talking, kept stroking Betty's hair as her fingers slid slowly up and up and up until…

She took her time, eased Betty into the feeling. Didn't rush, didn't push, just carried Betty through one languid orgasm after another and another and another until she had sapped every inch of anger and self-loathing out of her.

Well, for that night at least.


	18. How To Fuck Up

It was Betty's fault. It really was. At least as far as Betty was concerned. But then, as far as Betty was concerned, most things were.

So, yeah, there's only so long orgasm-induced unself-loathing can last unfortunately.

Cheryl had been sniping at her that day, as she tended to do from time to time. 

They both had appearances to keep up after all.

Today it had all been about how Betty would spread her legs for anything with or, in one particular comment, without a pulse. 

It wasn't Cheryl's usual plan of attack.

And Betty was still feeling raw from her last trip to Greendale.

So neither of them were at their best when they found each other in an empty hallway. (Entirely by coincidence you understand. They had in no way been seeking each other out more and more. Nope. Not at all. They just 'happened’ to run into each other. All. The. Time.)

 

“Feeling a little feisty today Cheryl?”

 

Cheryl rolled her eyes.

“What's that supposed to mean?”

 

“You know, the only other time you said anything about me having sex was after…” Betty didn't need to finish, they both knew what it was after.

 

“Do you have a point? I have other things to do.” Betty. Betty was the other things she had to do. It was honestly annoying how much she wanted her. But Cheryl wasn't going to say any of that.

 

“What's the matter Cher?” Betty smiled and stepped closer. “Jealous I was playing with my other toys?”

 

It was the exact, precise wrong thing to say.

Betty knew it the moment before it left her mouth. She knew it when she watched Cheryl's expression change as she shut down. She knew knew knew that she should never have referred to her like a thing rather than a person.

Cheryl had a look, her face settled into this expression of superiority and malice. Betty knew it well. She also knew the only times Cheryl looked like that was when she was hiding how much pain she was in. 

Betty knew that. 

Only Betty knew that.

Kevin didn't know that.

So when he saw Betty and Cheryl together it was worrying.

When he saw the look on Cheryl's face it turned into an emergence rescue operation, after all, just because Betty was willing to be Cheryl's punching bag didn't mean he was willing to let her.

 

“Jesus Cheryl.” He said as he strode towards them. “Can you not just leave her alone for…”

 

“Oh fuck off Keller!” Cheryl turned to him, her look more venomous than any ten deadly animals you care to name (or don't care to name for that matter). “Just because you see a couple of queer girls doesn't mean it's a parade you're invited to.”

 

It was a rare thing.

For Cheryl to wish her tongue weren't quite so fast.

 

Kevin was frozen in place.

Did… did Cheryl Blossom just come out to him?

Did Betty?

Did Cheryl just out Betty?

Wait.

Are they…?

  1. Nononono.



 

They might have been able to play it off. Pretend Cheryl wasn't being serious, just reaching for a scathing comment were it not for the look Betty gave her.

 

“You… two… no… you're… no… you can't, that's not, no…” Kevin had apparently short circuited.

 

“If you.” Cheryl prodded him in the chest. “Breath. A single. Word. Of this. To anyone. I will sew your lips shut.”

 

Kevin stood there in stunned silence as Betty wrapped her fingers around Cheryl's hand and pulled it away from Kevin's chest. She could feel the slightest tremor that ran through Cheryl.

 

_ (you did that) _

 

“I'm sorry, I shouldn't have. I just. I shouldn't have.”

 

“Like I care.”

 

“You're not and I know you're not and you know you're not.” As she speaks Betty squeezes Cheryl's hand, twists her wrist just so. Just enough for the right kind of ache. It was a very them kind of apology. It helps calm Cheryl down, ease her back into herself. Makes her expression soften a little.

 

“what the fuck?” Kevin had finally found his voice.

 

“Once again Keller,” Cheryl snaps, “not a parade you were invited to.”

 

“You two are dating?” His voice was high and incredulous.

 

Betty gave a small shake of her head.

Cheryl just scoffed.

 

“Then what are…”

 

“Okay gossip girl, in what fucking universe is my business any of fucking yours?”

 

“When it involves my best friend!” Kevin didn’t trust Cheryl, which was perfectly understandable as she was Cheryl, and he wasn’t just going to let Cheryl run roughshod all over Betty.

 

“Well, if your ‘Best Friend’” and the scare quotes were audible “had wanted you to know anything she would have told you. Now. If you breathe a word of this to anyone…”

 

“What?” Kevin interrupted. “No one will ever find my body?”

 

“Oh no. They will.” Cheryl’s voice was low and dangerous. “Because I will dump it in a shallow ditch right before I piss all…”

 

“Cheryl.” Betty didn’t yell, didn’t raise her voice at all. Just said Cheryl’s name in softly and it was enough.

 

Cheryl Blossom backed off because Betty Cooper said her name.

Betty’s a top? No, not the time.

 

Cheryl had backed off, but she was still fuming.

 

“Sorry about this Kev. Can we just pretend this never happened please? It’s, it’s for the best.” Betty gave him a pleading smile.

 

“I, but, you know, if you ever…”

 

“I know. Thanks Kev.”

 

It’s not that he wanted to say yes, it’s just who could ever say no to Betty Cooper?

 

Kevin wrapped her in a hug.

 

“You know Betts, I am always, always, always here for you.”

 

“I know. But this is kind of really private.”

 

“In other words fuck off.” Cheryl sneered at him.

 

He gave Betty a wave and Cheryl a dirty look as he walked away.

 

_ Betty’s a top. Kevin thought. _

_ Cheryl’s a bottom. _

_ Cheryl Blossom is a bottom. _

_ Cheryl Bottom. _

_ I hate that I can never unthink that now. _

_ Cheryl Bottom. _

_ Stop that! _


	19. How To Apologise

There was a knock on Cheryl’s door and it didn’t make her tense up.

Betty had already told her she was coming.

It was a habit she’d gotten into, not surprising Cheryl at home. The nights tended to go better without retraumatizing Cheryl.

 

“Hey.” Betty said as she walked in.

 

Cheryl didn't look up from her phone.

 

“I'm sorry about earlier.”

 

“I don't care Cooper.” Cheryl lied, still pretending to be engrossed in her phone.

 

“huh”

 

“What?” Cheryl looked up, glaring daggers at Betty.

 

“I thought you were meant to be a better liar than me.”

 

Cheryl silently seethed and in no way at all found Betty's comment annoyingly amusing.

 

“I have a gift for you.” Betty said.

 

Cheryl just huffed and rolled her eyes. Betty took it as permission to move closer, which it was.

 

“Here.” Betty handed her a gift bag.

 

Cheryl took it like her hair, gingerly, her lips pressed in a tight line that was definitely not suppressing a smile.

 

“It's a Vixens uniform.” Cheryl said, very clearly unimpressed.

She looked up at Betty only to be greeted with a little half smile so Cheryl took another look.

 

It was the back. That's what was different.

It didn't say Vixens, or Riverdale, or Blossom, or Head Bitch In Charge. I didn't say anything she thought it might.

 

“Betty's Bitch.” Cheryl read.

 

“Do you like it?” Betty asked apprehensively.

 

Cheryl didn't even try to hide her grin.

“Want me to try it on?”

 

Betty just smiled as Cheryl pulled her top off.

  
  
  


Cheryl was curled into Betty's side, naked, sweaty and worn away from the inside out. Her body was still trembling a little under the sheets and it had nothing to do with being cold.

It was very much the best apology she'd ever received. It was a very them apology, one that consisted almost entirely of Betty's tongue.

 

“how’re you so good that?” Cheryl asked dreamily, preening at the feel of Betty's fingers running through her hair, nails scritch-scratching oh so lightly at her scalp.

 

“Practice and enthusiasm.” Betty said.

 

“c'n hear your heart” Cheryl said, nuzzling further into Betty.

 

“Yeah? What's it saying.” Betty said with a grin. So long as one person liked her jokes then it was okay, even if that one person was Betty.

 

Cheryl mumbled something incoherent as she drifted off to sleep.

  
  
  


Betty’s eyes fluttered open. She didn’t wake up. 

She didn’t wake up because that would have required her to fall asleep. And she wasn’t asleep. She definitely wasn’t lulled off to sleep by the comfort she found in having Cheryl’s warm body pressed into her, by the rhythmic snort-snores that Cheryl made. Nope. Not Betty Cooper.

When her eyes did open (just her eyes opening, not her waking up) she felt lighter that she thought she should. It took her a moment to work out what was wrong, kinda like it does when you just wake up, not that she was asleep or anything.

Cheryl wasn’t pressed up against her. She was, in fact, alone in the comically oversized bed.

That's when the ambient noises of the room snapped into focus.

A soft whimpering. Shallow breaths. Someone trying to keep quiet. Now, there is a fun way and a not fun way for that to sound.

This was the not fun way.

Cheryl's pale skin was almost luminescent as she sat in the corner, knees held tight to her chest.

Betty hadn't been asleep so she didn't wake up, but the noise in her head did. It was not in a good mood.

 

“cheryl?” Betty's voice was low and soothing. “cher what's wrong?”

 

She sat down opposite Cheryl with her legs crossed.

 

“they found us” Cheryl's voice was barely there, she didn't look up. “they found us and they hurt you”

 

“cher, can you look at me?” 

 

When Cheryl didn’t look up Betty felt another part of herself break and shatter. Could hear the tinkling of sharp, jagged edges as they fell about inside her.

 

“you’re gonna wanna look at me cher, I’m in about the most undignified sitting position a naked girl can be in.”

 

Cheryl’s head moved just enough for her eyes to take in Betty. 

She was right, it wasn’t a very dignified position. Her top half was just standard naked girl. It was when you got to her waist that changed, the way her legs were crossed leaving her entirely exposed and slightly gaping.

 

“told you. and see, I’m okay, no one’s hurt me. promise.”

 

Cheryl’s eyes raked up and down Betty, examined every part she could see as if she were looking for the lie, the telltale sign that what she thought was true.

It wasn't there.

 

“can I touch you?” Betty asked, holding up her hands, palms facing Cheryl.

 

Cheryl's eyes darted between the scars on Betty's hands.

Something about them must have grounded her because she gave a small nod.

Cheryl's skin was cold to the touch.

How long had she been like this?

 

“I'm gonna pick you up now Cher.”

 

After receiving another small nod Betty slipped her arms under Cheryl and lifted her easily.

She felt light, so much lighter than she should, like she was hollow inside, like her physical being was being used as a metaphor for her emotional state.

 

Betty held on to her in bed, cocooned Cheryl between the sheets and her own body. Rubbed life back into her limbs, and, eventually, coaxed her off to sleep.

 

Betty didn't sleep.

 

_ (fix her) I'm trying _

_ (FIX) I can't just fix people. If I could you'd be long gone. _

_ (help her) I am trying. _

_ (stop them) I don't know how. _

_ (hurt them) I. Will. _


	20. How Not To Keep A Secret

Veronica stretched and yawned. It was very loud and very deliberate.

 

“You know Ronnie, you don't have to stay with me.” Betty didn't turn away from the computer screen.

 

Practice had been long and hard and afterwards Betty had things to do. Betty always had things to do. (These days a lot of the things she had to do were Cheryl Blossom.) Tonight what Betty had to do was the Blue and Gold.

 

Veronica's hand flew to her chest and she gasped, scandalised.

“And leave you here all by your lonesome? Why Elizabeth Cooper what kind of girl do you take me for?”

 

“The kind who makes my work take five times longer than it needs to.” Betty said in a playful tone, smile pulling at her lips.

 

“Ugh! Fine.” Veronica huffed as she collapsed back down into the chair.

 

It took her exactly three minutes and forty seven seconds to get fed up with spinning around on the chair.

So she pulled Betty’s hair out of its ponytail and started braiding and unbraiding it. 

It was nice. 

It was relaxing.

It could have lulled her to sleep.

If she didn’t have work to do. 

It helped her focus and made her not want to focus all at once. Fingers running through her hair. The gentle tug at her scalp.

 

“hmmm, rrrronnnnie.” Betty’s voice came out a lot more gravely and growly that she had intended.

Betty leant back into Veronica, turned her head and suddenly their faces were close. So close. So very, very close. And for the first time Betty didn't feel the almost overwhelming urge to push into Veronica, kiss her, consume her.

 

“huh” Veronica said as she continued to play with Betty's hair. “How's it going with you and Arch?”

 

“Ugh!” Betty rolled her eyes. “Never get involved with a redhead.”

 

“Really?” Betty couldn't see it but she knew Veronica had raised an eyebrow.

 

“They just take so much effort.”

 

Veronica had a very specific smile that Betty couldn't see to go with the very specific wording she chose.

“Is he worth it?”

 

Veronica heard Betty hum, felt Betty relax into her a little more.

“Yeah, yeah they are.”

 

Veronica shook her head, yep, she was right.

“So how long have you and Cheryl been a thing?”

 

Well that killed Betty's relaxation.

She nearly choked, she spluttered, she stammered.

 

“We're not. No. No. Why would you? What? No. Nu-uh. No.”

 

“You know you can't lie, like at all, right?” Veronica asked.

 

“I know.” Betty grumbled.

 

“Relax.” Veronica went back to playing with her hair. “It’s okay.”

 

“How did you know?” Betty asked, relaxing back into Veronica’s touch.

 

“Oh honey, I’m bi, I can recognise the pronoun game.”

 

“That’s it?” Betty snorted. “I say redhead instead of Archie and they instead of he and all my secrets are laid bare for Miss Veronica Lodge?”

 

“Not just that. Little things, like no straight girl stares at my lips half as much as you, we don’t know that many redheads, and you and Cheryl keep disappearing together.”

 

“We do not!”

 

“Fine, you keep being conspicuously absent at the same time.”

 

“Are we that obvious?”

 

“No, but when have I ever not noticed something about you Betty Cooper?”

 

“Fair.” Betty said.

 

“So, Cheryl Blossom is your girlfriend!” Veronica said with glee.

 

“She’s really not..”

 

“Fuck buddies?”

 

“Ronnie!”

 

“What then?”

 

“It’s, I don’t know.” Betty sighed. “It’s hard to explain. We, we can get something we need from each other. It’s like the way I’m broken and the way she’s broken intersect in just the right way.” Betty shrugged, unsure how to say it properly.

 

“Well, it seems to be working for you.”

 

Betty tilted her head back into Veronica's hands and made a questioning noise.

 

“You seem lighter lately, less burdened.”

 

“Do I usually seem burdened?”

 

Veronica paused for a moment.

“You usually seem like you're pretending you're not burdened. Like how often you seem like you're pretending you don't want to kiss me.”

 

“You noticed that?” Betty said, a blush colouring her cheeks.

 

“Betty, I love you but subtle you weren't. It's kinda hard not to notice when this gorgeous giantess keeps staring at your lips and breathing deeply.”

 

“oh my god” Betty muttered, her face rapidly approaching the colour of Cheryl's hair.

 

“I wondered why you didn't. I would have let you you know, kiss me.”

 

“I know.”

 

“Really?” Veronica asked.

 

“Ronnie, I love you but subtle you weren't.”

 

“Using my own words against me now Elizabeth?”

 

“The right tool for the job.” Betty said with a smile. “It took you what? Three days to shove your tongue down my throat and if you go five minutes without touching me you act like you're gonna explode.”

 

“Touchè Miss Cooper, touchè.” Veronica wrapped her arms around Betty. “If she doesn't treat you well I will eviscerate her. Literally.”

 

Betty turned her head and gave Veronica a peck on the cheek before whispering “thanks ronnie” as she rested her head on Veronica's shoulder.


	21. How To Come Out

“Changing room. Now!”

 

The line went dead and Betty looked at her phone in stunned silence for a moment.

Cheryl never called her. And certainly not while they were at school.

Betty shrugged and excused herself only to receive a suspicious glance from Kevin and an all too knowing look from Veronica.

God, she hoped those two wouldn’t notice each other.

 

The changing room was empty. Except for all the furniture. And some sporting equipment. And some clothing. And Cheryl. And Betty.

The changing room wasn’t empty, but Cheryl and Betty were the only people in it.

 

“Feeling a little impatient Cher?”

 

Cheryl did not look happy.

“You have your Vixens uniform?”

 

“Of course.” Betty said, wondering what was going on.

 

“Hand it over.” Cheryl said l, extending an arm.

 

“Why?”

 

Cheryl held up her own uniform.

 

“Well I guess that’s one way to come out.” Betty said, far too amused by the situation.

 

“Now give me your uniform.”

 

“Manners Cher.”

 

“Please.” Cheryl said with a roll of her eyes.

 

Betty handed it over.

 

“Here.” Cheryl tossed her own uniform to Betty.

 

“Well,” Betty said with a laugh. “guess I'm missing practice.”

 

“Um, no. Practice is mandatory. You know that.”

 

“Cheryl, I cannot turn up to practice in a uniform that says 'Betty's Bitch’”

 

“Well,” Cheryl said, hands on her hips. “I certainly can’t. Besides, I blame you for this.”

 

“You bought the wrong uniform, how is that my fault?”

 

Cheryl raised an eyebrow.

 

“Ugh, fine.”

Betty stepped close to Cheryl, put her hands on the other girl’s face.

“You” Betty said before kissing Cheryl tenderly. “are a nightmare.” But she said it with a smile.

  
  
  


Veronica was talking with Kevin and Jughead. Was being the operative word. Was because Betty didn't so much whisk Veronica away as much as grab her hand and vanish without a word.

 

Betty didn't speak until they were somewhere private.

 

“Ronnie, you know how you love me?”

 

“Well I did until you said that.”

 

“Need a favour.”

 

“Go on.” Veronica said, eyeing Betty with suspicion.

 

“A big favour, and I could do without you asking any questions.” 

 

“Go on.” Veronica said, eyeing Betty with even more suspicion.

 

“I need to swap Vixens uniforms with you.”

 

“You know you're kind of a giant, and I'm really not right?”

 

“A giant?” It was Betty's turn to eye Veronica.

 

“My favourite giant?”

 

“Really? That's your save? I'm a giant, but I'm your favourite giant?”

 

“Yes. That is what I am going with. You know my uniform'll be too small for you.”

 

“Oh, it beats the alternative.” Betty muttered.

 

“And what is the alternative?”

 

Betty sighed dejectedly and pulled the personalised uniform out of her bag.

 

Veronica nearly choked.

“You want me. To wear. This?”

 

Veronica snatched it out of Betty's hands and gave her a glare.

“You are lucky I love you Elizabeth Cooper.”

 

“I know.” Betty said meekly. “Thanks Ronnie.”

 

“Don't you Ronnie me!”

Veronica took another look at the uniform.

“I hate your girlfriend.”

 

“She's not my girlfriend.”

 

Veronica glared at Betty.

“I. Hate. Your. Wait.”

 

“You hate my weight?” Betty asked, covering her stomach self-consciously.

 

“What? No! You're perfect. Wait as in hold on.” Veronica watched as Betty untensed. “Betty's Bitch? This must be Cheryl's.”

 

Betty looked everywhere but at Veronica.

 

“You gave this to her?”

 

Crimson started to colour Betty's cheeks.

 

“So that means… OHMYGOD! Cheryl's a bottom! Cheryl Blossom is a bottom! Cheryl Bottom!”

 

“Veronica!”

 

“Sorry, sorry.” Veronica said with a giggle that made her apology sound not entirely sincere. “I think I've been spending too much time with Kevin. Oh! Can I tell Kevin?”

 

Betty's eyes went wide.

 

“I'm kidding.” Veronica said with a smile.

 

“Ronnie please!” There was a pleading tone to Betty's voice.

 

“Sorry. I know how to keep a secret. I mean I never told you about Kevin's…” Veronica trailed off.

 

Betty narrowed her eyes at Veronica.

“About Kevin's what?”

 

“Nothing.” Veronica said all singsong. “Let me guess, I'm lucky you love me?”

 

Betty tilted her head to the side, her eyes poring over Veronica's face.

“No.” She didn't smile at Veronica, she beamed. “I'm lucky you love me.”

  
  


It was not their best practice ever. For very specific reasons. Mostly because Veronica had 'Betty's Bitch’ emblazoned across her back.

 

Cheryl took one look at them and said.

“Well, that's one way of coming out.”

 

The other girls were too busy laughing to notice the look Betty gave her.

And if no one noticed that Cheryl's uniform was a little looser and Betty’s somewhat tighter, well, Veronica had a tendency to suck up the lion’s share of attention under normal circumstances anyway.

 

And when no one was looking, when they had just the slightest sliver of privacy, Veronica leaned into Betty and whispered in her ear.

“I will have my vengeance.”


	22. How To Have Your Vengeance

Vengeance is swift.

Vengeance was the following weekend. Cheryl was throwing a party. Because of course she was. When wasn’t she?

And besides, parties are a fantastic way of rubbing your wealth in other peoples faces.

Which is why Cheryl's parties always crossed socioeconomic lines.

How else would people know how much better than them Cheryl is?

And of course opulence is the watchword of wealth, so the catering was always amazing and overflowing. Which is why for some people the best food they ever ate was at Cheryl's parties. The best food their families ever ate too. Because ‘I didn't know there was a difference between landfill and poor people, what do I care?’

She may even have gotten rid of cars occasionally because 'the colour clashes with my new coat’ or 'i saw a middle class person in one’.

So Cheryl’s parties would always have a turn out.

Not that any of that has anything to do with what you’re about to read, that was just a fun little digression. Hope you enjoyed it.

 

Anyway, vengeance is swift and yadda, yadda, yadda.

Betty and Veronica (that sounds like a thing, someone should make that a thing) were getting ready. Together. At Veronica’s. For reasons.

 

(“Oh Betty, my love, you will come to mine before the party to get ready won’t you?”

The glint in Veronica’s eyes was pure evil.

“yes?” Betty gulped nervously)

 

Betty had decided on what she was wearing to the party. In fact it was what she turned up at Veronica's wearing.

Blue jeans, a plaid shirt, (“Betty, I thought you were pretending to be a straight girl? Plaid is the queerest colour scheme. Especially in lipstick lesbian colours.” Betty just smiled and rolled her eyes.) and a pastel pink cardigan.

Shockingly her hair was in a tight ponytail, and she had ‘I’m not wearing makeup makeup’ on.

 

“No.” Veronica said flatly.

 

“No?”

 

“No!”

 

“What do you mean no?” Betty asked.

 

“I mean no. Now go shower.”

 

“But I already did my hair and makeup!”

 

“Go. Shower.” Veronica commanded as she started pushing Betty towards the bathroom.

 

“Okay, okay.” Betty said, trying to wave Veronica off.

 

“You will exfoliate and moisturise and condition. It's up to you if you want to wax or shave.”

 

Betty just stared at Veronica in disbelief.

“What if I want to epilate.”

 

“Then I would do my very best to save you from yourself.” Veronica said. “No one wants to epilate. I'm pretty sure epilation was the most successful torture in the Spanish Inquisition's arsenal and has been banned under the Geneva Convention. Now Elizabeth Cooper. Do you want to epilate?”

 

“No Ronnie.”

 

“That's what I thought.”

  
  


The first thing Betty did when she got out the shower was get a towel for her hair.

The second thing Betty did when she got out the shower was get a towel for her body.

The third thing Betty did when she got out the shower was yell.

 

“VERONICA! Where are my clothes?”

 

“I wouldn’t know, as you clearly didn’t bring anything you could wear tonight with you.”

 

“Rooonnniieee.” Betty whined.

 

“Are you decent?” Veronica asked from the other side of the door.

 

“Well I don’t have any clothes!” Betty said, exasperated.

 

“Close enough.”

 

Betty just about got the towel wrapped around her body when Veronica barged in and grabbed her by the arm.

“Come on, we don’t have all night.”

 

“What are you doing?” Betty asked.

 

“Tonight, Elizabeth Cooper, you are going to be a Goddess!” Veronica tilted her head and hummed. “Even more so than you usually are.”

 

“Ronnie I…”

 

“Can’t hear you, I’m doing your hair.” Veronica said as she turned on her hair dryer.

  
  


“Okay, you’re done with my hair, now…”

 

“Don’t talk, you’ll mess up your makeup!” Veronica ordered, aggressively holding her eyeliner.

  
  


“My hair and makeup are done. Now can we talk?” Betty asked.

 

“Your welcome.”

 

“Okay, fine. Yes. Thank you. You’ve done an amazing job. I look amazing now.”

 

And she did. Her normally straight hair (“Oh honey, there is nothing straight about you” “Shut up Ronnie.”) had just the right amount of curl to it as it cascaded over her shoulders. And the makeup was just wow. She looked like a 1940’s femme fatale.

 

“Okay. One. You always look amazing. Two. Yes I have. Three. Fine, we can talk now.” Veronica said.

 

“So, and don’t get me wrong, I appreciate the effort, I really do, but what is going on? I’m feeling more like your doll than your friend.”

 

Veronica sucked in a breath and bit on her lip.

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to…”

 

“I know.” Betty said, taking hold of Veronica's hand and giving it a squeeze.

 

“I guess I got a little carried away.”

 

“A little.”

 

“Sorry. But, you know how I hate your girlfriend?” Veronica said.

 

“She's not my girlfriend.”

 

“Anyway, so you know how I hate your girlfriend.” Betty rolled her eyes. “I had to wear a top that said 'Betty's Bitch’ through practice. Now I'm not saying I mind being Betty's Bitch,” Betty gave her a shove, but in a friendly way. “but I'm not, she is. Because Cheryl Bottom…”

 

“Ronnie!”

 

“Because Cheryl's a bottom who grabbed the wrong top I had to wear it, and she mocked us for it!”

 

“Of course she did. She's Cheryl.”

 

“And this.” Veronica said with deliberate glee. “Is my vengeance.”

 

“Your vengeance is doing my hair and makeup?” Betty asked, confused.

 

“Yes! Well, no. Kinda! You two are a secret, no one else knows right?”

 

“We haven't told anyone.” Betty said. While she couldn't lie, and knew she couldn't lie, Betty could mislead through honesty like a champ.

 

“Well, tonight she will be wet from the second she sees you.”

 

“Ronnie.” Betty whined.

 

“Tonight you are going to look so good, and she will be so jealous of the girl hanging off your arm.”

 

“Who’s the girl hanging off my arm?” Betty asked.

 

“Why me of course.”

 

Betty gave her both a smile and an eyeroll.

 

“Tonight, Betty Cooper, I am gonna get you laid.”

 

“I really don't need any help with that.” Betty said with a blush.

 

“Tonight Cheryl will abandon her own party because she will just have to have you.”

 

“That isn't gonna happen.”

 

“Bet you a milkshake.” Veronica challenged.

 

Betty rolled her eyes again.

 

“You’re gonna owe me a milkshake.” Veronica said. “Now get in your dress.”

 

“But I don't have a dress.”

 

“It's on the bed.”

 

It was on the bed.

The dress was red. Cheryl Blossom's favourite red. A strappy number that showed off Betty's shoulders and arms. It was just that little bit too tight and that little bit too short and that little bit too low cut.

It didn't work with Betty's underwear. Luckily Veronica had thought of that too.


	23. How To Get Someone Else Laid

Cheryl absolutely did not stop and stare when Betty walked in.

No, really, she didn’t.

She wanted to but she didn’t.

It took an enormous amount of effort for her to not just gape open mouthed. It may have had a detrimental effect on her conversational abilities. And it certainly didn’t help the way Veronica was draping herself all over Betty, touching her arm, running her fingers along Betty’s shoulders, whispering to her, pressing into her side.

Not that Cheryl cared.

Not that Cheryl was jealous at all.

Why would she be jealous? It's not like she actually cared about Betty Cooper.

Cheryl was the hostess, she didn't have time for this.

 

It didn't help when Betty and Veronica started dancing.

Yes, Veronica had always been a very touchy-feely person. At least since she came to Riverdale. Well, with Betty Cooper, anyway.

But now Veronica was that little bit too close. That little bit too touchy. That little bit too too.

Never quite, but always just a split second from intimacy.

And it really didn't help that they were always just on the edge of Cheryl's vision, no matter where she went.

 

“ronnie.” Betty breathed as Veronica pressed into her, moving them to the deep bass beat.

 

“I'm gonna get you laid.” Veronica whispered, breath tickling Betty's neck. “you're gonna owe me a milkshake.”

 

Betty rolled her eyes. Well, two could play that game.

“maybe you'll owe me one.” Betty said to herself.

 

Veronica tilted her and made a quizzical noise.

 

“Nothing.” Betty said, giggling as she twirled Veronica.

Her eyes searched the room hoping to find just the right look. Cheryl wouldn't be the only jealous person in the room, not that Cheryl would be jealous (Betty really was a terrible liar, to everyone but herself).

People always had longing in their eyes when they looked at Veronica. Not that Betty could blame them. She was beautiful and smart and fun and caring and and and.

And if Betty were to make herself the ideal girl for her it would be Veronica (again, really good at lying to herself).

Of course people wanted her. Of course they got jealous of how she touched Betty.

It wasn't just the jealousy she was looking for, it was a hunger as well, the kind that just needed that little push. And someone Veronica would say yes to. Obviously.

Betty was spoiled for choice. But not. Most of them were too blatant. Not quite right. Openly staring. She wanted furtive glances. She wanted ‘I’m not looking, honest’. Betty was looking for 'No, I don't want you, but God I could melt beneath your tongue for hours’.

And she found it. Talking to one of the football players, not looking, very deliberately not looking and sometimes stumbling over the conversation when she did. This would work.

Now she just had to wait for Cheryl, who was not as subtle as she thought she was. At least not to Betty.

Betty looked at Veronica and smiled a perfectly innocent smile, because all of Betty Cooper's smiles were perfectly innocent (unless you were Cheryl Blossom, but then there were extenuating circumstances and they could be downright wicked at times).

 

Cheryl lasted an hour. Well, Cheryl lasted fifty seven minutes and twenty two seconds to be precise. 

 

“Cooper, a word if you please.” Cheryl said icely. She didn't even spare a glance at Veronica as she untangled herself from Betty. If she had she may have spotted the smug I win smirk on her face.

 

“Be right back.” Betty said.

 

“You kids have fun now.” Veronica said as Betty followed Cheryl.

 

“Oh they will.” Kevin said under his breath. 

 

Veronica hadn't realised he was behind her.

“What was that Kev?” She asked.

 

“Oh, nothing.” Kevin said, with a far too faux innocent grin plastered on his face

 

Veronica was about to confront him when…

 

On the way out the room Betty took the drink out of Ginger's hand and gave her a push towards Veronica.

 

“Hey!” Ginger protested.

 

“Go dance with Ronnie.” Betty said, giving her another friendly push. “Please.”

 

The football player she'd been talking to looked dumbfounded.

 

Ginger protested but went over to Veronica anyway. Her protests were not convincing.

 

…Ginger walked up to her.

“Betty sent me over to dance with you.” She said it with a humph, like she didn't want to be doing this. It fooled no one.

 

Veronica quirked an eyebrow and held out her hand. When Ginger took it she was pulled into Veronica, surrounded by, melted into her warmth, and, yeah, Veronica was probably going to owe Betty a milkshake.


	24. How To Express Yourself

“Having fun with your little BFF?” Cheryl spat.

 

They were in Cheryl's room, as they so often were.

 

“Something wrong Cher?”

 

Cheryl just scoffed and turned her face away from Betty.

 

“Cher,” Betty's hand on her cheek, Betty's thumb stroking under her eye. “if you don't ask me I can't tell you what you wanna know.”

 

Cheryl looked anywhere but at Betty.

 

“you know,” Betty's breath on her cheek, Betty's whisper in her ear. “jealousy's not a good look on you. you're so much prettier in red than green.”

 

“Ugh!” At least it was a response. At least Cheryl would look at her now.

 

“Me and V?”

 

The twitch of Cheryl's eyes said yes.

 

“How I feel about her?”

 

Another yes.

 

“I love her.” Betty said with a shrug. “She’s my best friend. Being around her makes the noise in my head quiet. I’d die for her.”

 

Cheryl didn’t move but Betty could see her closing in on herself inch by inch.

 

“But, you, Cheryl Blossom.” Betty took Cheryl’s face in her hands. “You don’t quiet the noise, you sate it.” Kissed Cheryl’s forehead. “You are the only thing we have ever agreed on.” Kissed Cheryl’s nose. “You help me see and hear through the static.” Kissed Cheryl’s lips. “Yeah, I’d die for Ronnie.” Whispered in Cheryl’s ear. “but I’d kill for you.”

 

Cheryl looked up at Betty.

“I suppose that will have to do.” She said as though she hadn’t just been falling apart.

 

“Kinda odd to get possessive over a girl you don’t even like Cher.” Betty said with a sly little smirk.

 

“Oh fuck off Cooper.” It may have been more effective had Cheryl not already grabbed Betty by the wrist and started dragging her toward the bed, and yeah, Betty was probably going to owe Veronica a milkshake.


	25. How To Pay Off A Debt

Veronica was already sitting in a booth when Betty arrived at Pop’s but Betty didn’t join her. Instead she sat at the counter and ordered.

When her milkshake arrived, that’s when she joined Veronica.

 

“Not a word.” Betty said with a sheepish smile as she slid the milkshake across the table to Veronica.

 

Veronica smiled a smug smile.

“I knew it!”

 

Betty just quirked an eyebrow at her.

 

“You know, you and Cheryl Bottom.” The look became a glare. “You and Cheryl disappearing…” It turned back into a look. “...for the rest of the night wasn’t exactly subtle.”

 

Betty just continued to look, eyebrow quirked, patient and silent.

 

“Ugh! Okay, fine, I owe you a milkshake.”

 

Betty smiled a very self satisfied smile.

 

“But Ginger? Her of all people? How did you know?”

 

“I may be the world's foremost expert on the ‘I want Veronica Lodge to unravel me with her tongue’ look.”

 

Veronica sat in stunned silence for a moment.

“Okay, you have become way more open about wanting me since you got a girlfriend.”

 

_ It’s a trick question.  _ Betty thought.  _ You will only get the chance to answer one half of that no matter which half you pick it will be the wrong one. _

“She’s not my…” Betty continued her usual ‘we’re not a thing’ speech, but…

 

**Actually, actually.**

**Actually…**

**Last night.**

**Last night had been different. Had been good. Well, it had always been good, but last night had been a different kind of good.**

**It wasn’t urgent or rough. It wasn’t even intense. It was, it was easy. Even passing over into languid at times. Hell, Cheryl even laughed when Betty’s wrist cramped up, laughed! And Cheryl was really enjoying what Betty had been doing with that hand.**

**It was the least hatefucky sex either of them had ever had.**

**And no, they didn’t go back to the party.**

**And no, they didn’t care how suspicious it may have looked.**

**But Betty had made sure Veronica was busy with Ginger.**

**Kevin was still feeling giddy over his new little gaybies (both of whom would have objected to the term, but only one of them would have skinned him alive for it) so he took it upon himself to keep Archie and Jughead distracted enough to not notice Betty was missing.**

**And as for Cheryl. Cheryl knew that absolutely no one gave a shit about where she was, or what happened to her. And if anyone had the temerity to ask then they could go fuck themselves.**

**Although at one point there was a knock on the door.**

 

**“FUCK OFF!” Cheryl had shouted.**

 

**“It’s just me.” Kevin said through the door.**

 

**“Oh, well.” Cheryl said. “Fuck off!”**

 

**The door opened slightly.**

 

**“I swear to fucking god Keller!”**

 

**“Just dropping something off.” He said as he slid a pizza into the room, along with a bottle of wine and a few bottles of water.**

 

**Betty smiled and nudged Cheryl, giving her an expectant look.**

 

**Cheryl huffed.**

**“Thank you.” Cheryl said, her voice both begrudging and sincere. And the sincerity was certainly begrudging.**

 

**“Thought you might need some energy.” Kevin said as he closed the door and Cheryl knew, just knew that he had a big stupid grin plastered across his face.**

 

**Cheryl’s eyes lingered on Betty as she scrambled out of bed to get the food. Her naked skin looked darker in the subdued light of Cheryl’s bedroom. Cheryl’s gaze flitted up and down, every curve and dip explored, every scar memorised. Both the accidental and the intentional.**

 

**_maybe,_ ** **Cheryl thought,** **_just maybe Betty Cooper isn’t the worse (maybe she’s the best)_ **

**Because while Cheryl is an expert at lying to other people she is terrible at lying to herself.**

 

**Later, when they are the three esses (sticky, sweaty and sated) Cheryl is curled around Betty and she gradually drifts into a comfortable sleep with Betty’s fingers running through her hair.**

 

**Later still when Betty fell asleep it was with the feel of Cheryl against her skin, the scent of her in her nose, the taste of her on her tongue and the realisation that the noise in her head hadn’t said anything since they entered Cheryl’s bedroom.**

 

**Even later than that, when Betty woke up it was because of a change in pressure. Cheryl’s arms tense as they wrapped around Betty’s chest and squeezed. Fingers digging into Betty as if she was scared Betty wasn’t really there. Her whole body was trembling. Cheryl was sobbing silently. Again. And it Broke Betty’s heart. Again.**

 

**“carg?” Betty said, or at least tried to say. Her fingers found their way to Cheryl’s cheek, to wipe away some of the dampness there as she wiggled her jaw a few times (it may have been a little sore, after… certain activities. Those activities being eating Cheryl out for like seventy four minutes.).**

 

**“Cher?” Betty said after working some life into her jaw.**

 

**Cheryl just trembled and held her close.**

 

**Betty held Cheryl close. Ran her fingers through Cheryl's hair. Made soft comforting noises. And she could feel it. Betty could feel the noise looming over the two of them.**

 

**“I… I… can't… shouldn't… they… they'll… send… send me back.” Then Cheryl let out a gut wrenching noise. But because it was Cheryl, the girl who had learnt how to sob silently, it was so quiet it didn't carry beyond her bed.**

 

**“Hey, no one's sending you anywhere and if they do then I'll come get you.”**

 

**Cheryl looked up at Betty, searching for the deceit, the hate and spite she knew was there. She couldn't find it.**

 

**“I can't lie, like, at all, remember?” Betty said with a gentle smile. “If they send you away then. I. Will. Come. Get you. Promise.”**

 

**“I can't go back there. I can't do it again. not again. not again. not again.” Cheryl hurried her face in Betty's neck as Betty held her tight.**

 

**Betty wanted to ask but it felt like asking would make things worse, not better.**

 

**“the sisters of quiet mercy” Cheryl eventually whispered.**

 

**Betty didn’t tense up, didn’t react at all. Held complete control over her body. It wouldn’t help Cheryl if she were to get angry. But she did remember finding her sister, Polly there, exiled for her pregnancy. She did remember the state Polly was in before she escaped. So far away from the sister she knew, broken down and half crazed.**

 

**It turned out that The Sisters of Quiet Mercy didn’t just imprison girls with the temerity to get pregnant, they also did conversion therapy. As Cheryl was well aware. As Cheryl had been well aware since her stay there when she was thirteen.**

 

**But Polly was back home now, Poly was back home and Cheryl, Cheryl was never going back.**

 

**Betty held Cheryl close. Kissed the top of her head. Pressed their bodies together like she was trying to meld them into one being.**

**And while she did this the noise in her head screamed at the night, howled in anguish and hated and hated and hated.**

 

**“Cher?” Something clicked in Betty’s mind, yes, the occasional post-coital breakdowns made more sense now, but something else. “The first time we… was that your first time?”**

 

**Cheryl nodded into Betty’s neck.**

 

**“I’m sorry.”**

 

**Cheryl looked up at her then.**

**“why?” Her voice was quiet and raspy.**

 

**“I shouldn’t have treated you how I did, I should have been better, kinder.”**

 

**“no”**

 

**“No?” Betty raised an eyebrow.**

 

**“no” Cheryl repeated. “you were per…” She was going to say perfect, but she caught herself. “what I needed”**

 

**“You were perfect.” Betty said, burying her face in Cheryl’s hair. “Are perfect. And your parents are such absolute failures. Everyday they try to break you, every day they try to stamp you out. And everyday they fail. And they fail. And they will always fail because you are better than them. And they are wrong.” A kiss. “You are not unwanted” A kiss. “You are not unworthy.” A kiss and a kiss and a kiss and a kiss. “You are not unloved.” A kiss. “And I would kill them before I let them take you from me.”**

 

**Betty could feel Cheryl untense around her, melt into her, could hear the slight change of the tremor in her breath as it went from fear to relief…**

  
  


“Ha! I knew you wanted me!” Veronica exclaimed.

 

_ (see, told you it was a trick. and really ‘she’s not my girlfriend’? still?) _

 

“Never denied it.” Betty said with a roll of her eyes. “And, okay, there may be something between me and Cheryl.”

 

“She’s your girlfriend.” Veronica said bluntly.

 

“She may be my girlfriend.” Betty admitted with a nod and a smile.


	26. How To Tell The Truth

Betty smoothed down her skirt and didn't get nervous.

She wasn't going to lie, that was the important thing. None of what she was going to say would be a lie.

All the while the noise in her head was scratch-scratch-scratching, aching, screaming, seething to tear and beat and hurt him, hurt him, HURT HIM.

 

“Miss Cooper?” Betty turned towards the receptionist and smiled. “You can go in now.”

 

“Thank you.” Betty said as she stood.

Her step didn't falter. Her breath didn't catch. Her heart rate didn't jump.

She took all of her anger, all of her fury, her hate and pushed it out, let the noise absorb it all.

 

“Elizabeth? I was expecting to see a Mr Jones today.”

 

“My apologies, Mr Blossom. Mr Jones is having some family troubles at the moment.” Not a lie, Jughead was having family troubles. They weren't new family troubles but it was still true.

 

Clifford Blossom did not look particularly pleased by this.

 

“I can understand your reticence, given our families history.” Betty smiled a sincere smile. “Especially given some of the stories that have appeared in The Register, but I hope you won't judge me for the sins of my parents.”

 

“Of course.” Clifford said, smiling as he extended his hand.

 

“Thank you.” Betty shook his hand. The noise in her head wanted her to break it. She didn’t. “So, the thinking behind this interview is, we wanted to do a piece on successful people in and from Riverdale for the Blue and Gold. Riverdale High’s school paper. Really let people see what they can achieve. Kind of part how-to and part aspirational. We’d like to turn it into a series if people respond well to it, so, we figured why not start at the top.”

 

A pretty girl with a firm handshake and an easy smile stroking your ego? Yeah, that does have a tendency to work.

 

“Well,” Clifford said with a laugh, gesturing toward a seat. “you’ve certainly got your opening patter down. Would you care for a drink?”

 

“I’d love some tea. Thank you.” Betty sat down and took out her notepad and phone. “Is it alright if I record this?”

 

“Of course.”

 

It was a decent interview. Betty had done her due diligence, had gone over her questions again and again. She didn't want it to come across like a puff piece or just some dumb kid asking a bunch of obvious softball questions. She wanted Clifford to like her. 

And he did.

Everyone liked Betty Cooper after all.

And Clifford came across as such monsters often do, strong, charming, generous (oh, Betty had made sure Blossom Farm's charity work had come up).

 

“Well Elizabeth, enjoyable as this has been, I'm afraid I have another appointment to get to.”

 

“Thank you so much for your time Mr. Blossom.”

 

Betty packed her things away and stood.

 

Clifford once again offered Betty his hand.

With a smile on her lips and a howling in her ear she took it and said.

“If you ever touch your daughter again I will kill you.”


	27. How To Have Fun

“The man’s a hack that gets treated like an auteur.” Jughead said wearily, as through he and Archie had had this conversation seven thousand times before. They hadn’t, it had only been one hundred and fifty seven.

 

“Come on Jug,” Archie said, “he can tell an engaging mystery.”

 

“No. No he can’t. Mysteries have pay off and he actively flees from the payoff like it’s toxic.”

 

Everyone else on the table had gotten used to tuning them out by this point. Well, Veronica had gotten used to tuning them out by this point, Betty and Kevin had gotten used to tuning them out years ago.

 

Veronica looked across the cafeteria and smiled at Ginger. Ginger very specifically didn’t look at Veronica.

“Ugh! Closeted girls are the worse.” She muttered to herself before she had a very Veronica thought. “Hey Kev?” She said in a tone of voice that made Betty’s ‘uh-oh-Veronica’ sense tingle.

 

“hmmm?” Kevin looked up from his phone.

 

“Have you noticed how short Cheryl’s nails are?” Veronica asked with all the innocence of Veronica.

 

Betty’s jaw tightened slightly.

 

“I know!” Kevin responded “I’ve never seen her without her talons before. Wonder what that’s about.”

 

When Veronica glanced at Cheryl Kevin gave Betty a sly look before glancing at her himself. That’s when Veronica gave Betty a sly look.

The logistics of Betty giving both of them warning looks without the other seeing were not as simple as she would have liked. That’s when Betty caught Cheryl’s eyes, saw the half smile that flashed across her face, felt the noise in her head preen at the attention.

Betty decided to let Veronica and Kevin play their little game (that they didn’t know they were playing together) without her.

 

“I’ll catch you guys later, I’m gonna take a walk.” Betty said, ignoring the surreptitious raised eyebrows.

 

Entirely coincidentally about a minute later Cheryl left the cafeteria.

 

From outside the toilets the girl could swear she heard giggling, which was nice, which meant she wouldn’t be walking in on a tense situation, yet again.

The noise vanished the second she opened the door. Her shoulders sagged when once again Betty Cooper and Cheryl Blossom where standing there in tense silence.

 

Cheryl huffed before she turned to the girl.

“You do realise this school has other toilets don’t you.” Cheryl asked.

 

“Then why don’t you…” Cheryl’s glare shut her up. She sighed a defeated sigh and left to find another toilet. She thought she heard giggling again after the door closed.

 

Cheryl giggled as Betty slapped her arm.

 

“Be nice.” Betty said as she dragged Cheryl into a stall.

 

“Not fucking likely.” Cheryl said before melting into Betty.


	28. How To Exit The Vehicle

Betty laughed. It was an easy, genuine sound that bounced around her car. It only made Archie sing along with the radio louder. And, sure, he could sing, but he did not know the words to this song. He very very did not know the words to this song.

Betty snorted and took one hand off the wheel so she could punch him in the arm.

It didn’t stop him. 

Nothing could stop him. 

The song ending stopped him.

 

“You tryna make me crash Andrews?” Betty said in a mock stern voice.

 

“What can I say Cooper, I like to live dangerously.”

 

They both burst out laughing again.

 

“Betts?” Archie said when he could speak again. “Can I ask you a question?”

 

“Usually.”

 

“Are you seeing someone?”

 

“Why do you ask?” Betty said cautiously.

 

“It just, you’ve been giving me a lot less lingering lovesick looks lately.”

 

“That’s an awful amount of alliteration Arch.”

 

“Accidental alliteration I assure you.” Archie smirked. “And I know you have some… issues.”

 

“not just some” Betty muttered.

 

“But lately you’ve seemed more at ease. I don’t know if that’s that your seeing someone or new medication or something else entirely. But I’m happy for you, whatever it is and I’m always gonna be here if you want to talk. Not that you need to or anything.”

 

“thank you” Betty whispered with a smile. “Love you Andrews.”

 

“Love ya back Cooper.”

 

“Honestly it’s, I’m, I’ve been. Well.” Betty wasn’t sure what she was going to say, what she would have said if her phone hadn’t started ringing. “but you never just call.” Betty said with concern as she looked at the caller ID.

She had her phone to her ear before she pulled over, which worried Archie. Betty never picked up her phone while she was driving, he knew that from experience.

He could only hear one half of the conversation and it didn't sound good. It didn't really sound like a conversation at all. Just a whole lot of stuttering, broken fragments, all wheres and whats and waits.

He watched in silence as Betty's body tensed and her face went from carefree to concern to stone cold fury.

 

“Betty?” He said after the call had ended, but she just stared at her phone for long, long seconds before opening it's Cheryl locator (also known as find my friends).

 

“Betty?” Archie repeated, holding up a hand but not touching her.

 

Betty felt the noise in her head explode.

It filled the car instantly and kept going, faster than light, faster than thought until the world, galaxy, universe was filled with nothing but the noise.

And then it poured into her.

Flowed through every vein. Wrapped around every tendon. Filled every cell.

 

“get out” She said, her voice low and seething.

 

“Betty?”

 

“GET OUT!” BETTY SCREAMED AND SHOVED Archie OUT OF HER CAR.

 

Archie stumbled as his feet hit the ground, watching as BETTY SPED AWAY before he’d even managed to find his balance.

 

“fuck” He muttered to himself, fear creeping over him.

 

That’s when he realised it. What he was probably going to have to do.

Archie Andrews was going to have to break the cardinal rule.

He was going to have to call Betty’s parents.


	29. How To Get Back To Where We Began

Like I said earlier, what’s another gunshot in Riverdale?


	30. How To Hate Someone Else

The gunshot echoed around them, only to be replaced by Cheryl’s terrified scream when it faded away.

 

There was pain. There was definitely pain but it really didn’t matter when every nerve ending in Betty’s body was occupied by the noise in her head screeching. The impact barely even registered but she was vaguely aware of the shift in her balance, how her right arm wasn’t moving the way she wanted it to. Not that it mattered when all of existence had been reduced to the distance between her and Cheryl, Cheryl and Clifford, her and Clifford.

 

Another gunshot and once again Cheryl was the only one who seemed to care.

But, as it turns out, apparently panicking in the dark doesn’t make Clifford’s aim better.

Seems like the only kind of teenager Clifford Blossom could stop was one that couldn’t fight back. 

 

He lost two things when Betty slammed into him. 

His grip on the gun and the air in his lungs. 

Also his balance. 

Oh, and some of his confidence about this turning out in his favour. 

He lost at least two things when Betty slammed into him, probably (definitely) more.

The impact of a bullet didn’t stop Betty, neither neither did the impact of a Clifford. Betty threw her whole body into him, pushing him back and back until he bounced off Jason (the tree, not his dead son).

Only one of them was a fighter, at least in that sense.

Clifford didn’t run laps, didn’t swing a bat, haul an engine block, stomp down until ribs broke. No. Clifford didn’t do any of those things. 

But Betty? Betty did.

Do you know what else Betty did?

She grabbed his hair (with her left hand) and smashed his head against the tree. And smashed his head against the tree. And pain exploded behind her eyes.

Torn skin flapped down from Betty's temple as blood streamed down her face, obscuring her vision. And she smashed his head against the tree.

The rock in Clifford's hand shone black with blood in the darkness. He could feel the slick slipperiness as it seeped between his fingers. And he hit Betty again.

 

Betty’s head jerked to the side for some reason (it was because of the rock that just hit her across the face) and she wrapped her fingers around Clifford's throat.

Betty howled with frustration when only one of her hands would do what she wanted it to.

 

_ (that's okay)  _ the noise whispered  _ (we can kill him with one hand) _

 

“said kill you” Betty slurred as she pushed all of her weight into him “touch her kill you”

 

Clifford was getting weaker and weaker. The rock didn't even make Betty flinch the last time he hit her. The rock slipped from his fingers and he clawed desperately at Betty’s wrist, gouging deep red welts into her skin. It was as effective as something that was not in anyway effective.

Betty pushed into Clifford as he slumped, using her weight to hold him up as well as she could. It worked, but not for long. Whatever strength she had, like a lot of her blood, was gone.

 

“BETTY!” Cheryl screamed as she scrabbled toward her. “nononono,notyoutoonotyou,nonono…” Cheryl repeated again and again.

Everywhere she looked was the darkness of spreading blood.

It was the first time Betty had felt hot and wet beneath her fingers and Cheryl wasn’t happy about it.

Her hands felt like they were wrapped in bandages as she fumbled through Betty’s pockets in search of her phone.

She didn’t know Betty’s fucking passcode. Of course she didn’t know Betty’s fucking passcode. Why would she know Betty’s fucking passcode? It’s not like there was going to be some kind of fucking emergency where BETTY WAS FUCKING DYING.

Wait.

Betty has thumbs.

Of course Betty has thumbs!

So, apparently, Betty’s right arm wasn’t as useless as she thought it was. Cheryl could unlock the phone with it.

 

“help us please help us he tried to kill she’s not, she’s dying, she can’t die oh god oh god help…”


	31. How To Be Better

The hospital was very hospital like, in the way hospitals tend to be.

Cheryl was curled up in a chair, and she looked like shit.

Her hair was a mess, her clothes were tattered and blood stained, half her face was bloodied and swollen, dark bruises marred the skin around her neck. And her left hand and wrist were in a cast.

But at least she was in a better condition than Betty. Not that Cheryl was doing well, just that Betty was much worse. Consciousness had not been her constant companion. Cheryl had, but not consciousness.

This was not their best night ever. Honestly, it didn’t even make the top ten.

They had refused to be parted, and after what they’d just been through together there was no good way of saying no to them, so no one did.

 

Sometimes a bullet can hit everything just wrong. 

That’s why Betty’s right arm had no feeling below the elbow. No movement either. 

But she was stable now. That’s what the doctor had said. Stable. Betty had scoffed at that one, but trauma being what it was it passed without comment. A raised eyebrow, maybe, but no comment.

 

Betty blinked blearily, her mind rising back to the waking world once again, and she looked over at Cheryl. 

Ah, good, now there was only one Cheryl. 

Yay progress!

Cheryl sat there, huddled up, collapsed in on herself, small and broken because of course she is. Jason is dead. Her father killed him. Wanted to kill her. Tried to kill Betty. Of course Cheryl is small and broken, she’s with Betty and Betty is the only place she’s allowed to be small and broken.

  
  
  


Alice Cooper exploded into the room, panic was coiling around inside her. She’d only just gotten one daughter back, she wasn’t going to lose the other one now. So, yeah, the panic was understandable, but panic wasn’t a good look on her. Because somewhere inside her, on it’s way out, panic always turned into anger. And her anger always needed a target. It was not a trait that had done wonders for her relationship with her daughters.

 

“Betty, oh my god, Betty!” 

The panic bubbled up inside her. Alice could feel it fill her, feel the pressure of it pressing against the inside of her skin until the only place it could go was out of her mouth.

“HER!” Alice's voice was high and shaky as she pointed at Cheryl who curled up into herself even more. “You're like this because of HER?...”

_ (what's wrong with you alice? your daughter could have died, nearly died and you did nothing to save her. how could you have let this happen? how could you fail so badly? what if it happens again? oh god nononono not betty. not polly. you have to protect them. you have to save them. you can't lose them. THIS IS YOUR FAULT) _

 

She's broken out of both tirades, external and internal, by a glass shattering against the wall to her left. Betty was leaning up in her bed, good arm extended before collapsing back down with a throaty sound of pain.

 

“no” Betty said. Her voice was weak and hoarse but there was a finality to it.

 

_ (nononono you can't lose her you can't you can't you can't) _

For the first time in her life Alice managed to push past her panic. Let it evaporate and drift away. Let something else fill her up. Love. Well, love and fear. Well, like 10% love and 90% fear.

 

“I’m sorry.” Alice said as she looked at her baby girl with pained eyes.

  
  
  


When Polly walked in, well more waddled really, she was a whole lot of pregnant, Alice was cleaning bits of broken glass up off the floor.

 

“Dad’s just parking the… Mom? What are… Oh My God, Betty!” Apparently there were too many things going on for Polly to form coherent sentences but as soon as she laid eyes on her sister, injured and prone, she rushed over to her. Or as rushed over to her as she could. Whole lot of pregnant, remember.

 

“Betty…” Polly stood there frozen, desperately wanting to hold her sister, wrap her up in her arms and protect her but not wanting to hurt her more.

 

Betty looked up at her and smiled.

 

“I’m okay.”

 

“You, Elizabeth Cooper, are a terrible liar.”

 

“I know.” Betty said as she didn’t grab Polly’s hand, but only because she tried to use her right hand to do it. On her second attempt, with her left hand, she managed to take hold of Polly’s hand and give it a reassuring squeeze.

 

Polly gave Betty a look. Well, Polly gave Betty ‘A Look’.

“Betts, you’re the one in hospital, you don’t need to be reassuring me.”

 

“But I’m fine.”

 

“Still a terrible liar.” Polly said as she kissed her sister.

 

While Polly was close Betty whispered.

“cheryl’s coming home with us.”

 

Polly gave Betty a confused look, until she followed her sister’s gaze to Cheryl. Polly’s eyes widened in shock, she had been too focused on her sister for anything else, and with a nod from Betty she waddle-dashed over. 

Polly was getting far more experience at speed pregnancy than she ever expected.

 

“Oh Cheryl, honey.” Polly said as she rubbed Cheryl’s shoulders.

 

“p, p, polly?” Cheryl husked.

 

“It’s me sweetie, it’s okay. You want to feel your niece and nephew? I think they just had a trampoline installed.”

 

Cheryl nodded and Polly took her ands and placed them on her belly. 

The feeling made Cheryl smile a wet-eyed smile.

 

Alice had finished cleaning up the glass and moved next to Betty.

 

“Mom, Cheryl’s coming home with us.”

 

Alice looked at Betty. At the determined set to her jaw. She looked at Polly. At how she was standing protectively over Cheryl. She looked at Cheryl. At how broken and vulnerable she was.

 

“Of course.” Alice said as she stroked a strand of hair away from Betty's face with a tenderness Betty hadn't felt from her mother in a long time.

 

So that was it. Decided. Alice kissed Cheryl on the top of her head and gave her a sad smile. Cheryl was with them now. A kind of peace descended on the room. Or at least it did for the two minutes they had before Hal arrived.

 

Alice knew Hal wouldn't be happy about this, about Cheryl but she didn't think he would ignore his very injured daughter in favour of screaming at a hurt and scared girl.

 

“...always some Blossom trying to destroy us!” Hal ranted at Cheryl, not even noticing how scared Polly looked as she gripped Cheryl protectively.

 

“Hal.” Alice said.

 

He didn't even acknowledge her.

 

“HAL!” She grabbed his wrist. “Outside. Now!” And she was dragging him before he could react.

 

“Your daughter was shot, and this is what you care about?” The girls heard Alice say before the door closed.

After that they only heard snippets of the 'conversation’..

 

“...is wrong with you…”

 

“...not...Blossom...my home...”

 

“...just a girl…”

 

“...WILL NOT…”

 

“...is this the line you want to draw?”

 

“...”

 

“...we’re done Hal…”

 

“...for a Blossom…”

 

“GET YOUR SHIT AND GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HOUSE!”

 

There was the noise of angry footsteps retreating and what sounded like someone collapsing against the door.

 

Polly started to move toward the door.

 

“don’t” Betty said softly with a shake of her head.

Polly gave a little nod and went back to Cheryl. Betty was right. This was not a state Alice wanted her daughters to see her in.

 

It was about two minutes before Alice came back in the room (two minutes and thirteen seconds, but who’s counting). She definitely had not been crying. Her daughters could tell that she had definitely not been crying.

 

“Cheryl, you’re coming home with us.” Alice said as she closed the door.

 

“th...th...thank…” Words were not Chery’s forte at that particular moment.

 

“Hush.” Alice said, tilting Cheryl’s head so she could look her in the eyes. “You can be the redheaded stepchild I always wanted.” And she gave Cheryl a maternal smile.

 

And that did it. That broke every last bit of Cheryl that she was trying to hold together. It was the most maternal anyone had ever been toward her in her life and she just couldn’t take it. 

Tears streamed down her face. Sobs wracked her body and Betty said something she couldn’t make out. It must have been disagreed with because she said it again more forcefully.

Then Alice was easing her up out of the chair, moving her.

 

Was she… was she getting rid of her? Throwing her away for being too weak, too broken and unloveable. Her own parents didn’t want her, why would anyone else? It was over. Those few seconds of belonging, of being wanted were all she would get, were more than she deserved.

 

And then she was being eased onto the bed, next to Betty.

Betty, who held her, only with the one arm, but there were reasons for that. Betty who calmed her and kissed her and told her that she loved her. 

Cheryl trembled and clutched onto Betty and could breathe again.

Once again peace returned to the room. A nervous, concerned kind of peace, but peace.

  
  
  
  


And then Penelope Blossom happened. Or at least she tried to.

She wasn't the hurricane that Alice was when she entered. Much more of a cold front. And back. And cold everything in-between really.

Betty felt Cheryl tense against her. Felt the noise in her head rise from its slumber, wanting to fight.

 

“Penelope.” Alice said, her voice as cold as Penelope's entrance.

 

“Alice.” Penelope said with, well you can't really call it barely concealed disdain if there's no attempt to conceal it. “Cheryl, we’re leaving.” She barely even spared her daughter a glance as she glared at Alice.

 

Polly’s hands were on Betty’s shoulders, holding her down before she shot out of bed to murder Penelope.

 

“No.” Alice said simply, as though Penelope had just asked her if she wanted sugar in her coffee.

 

It took a moment for the reality of what Alice said to register with Penelope. Her brow furrowed, first in confusion, then in fury.

 

“Excuse me?” Penelope stepped forward, Alice didn’t step back. “Are you trying to tell me I can’t take my daughter home?”

 

“No.” Alice took a step forward, Penelope didn’t take a step back. “I’m not trying to tell you, I am telling you that Cheryl is never setting foot in that dismal hell-pit you call a home again.”

 

“You can’t…” Alice took a step forward, forcing Penelope to take a step back and cutting her off.

 

“Your husband killed his own son.” Another step forward, another step back. “Tried to kill his daughter.” Another step forward, another step back. “Tried to kill my daughter.” Alice’s voice was low and full of fury as she took another step forward. The wall stopped Penelope taking another step back. “And if you think for a single second I am letting you anywhere near my daughter’s girlfriend,” Alice noticed the disgust in Penelope’s eyes. “well, your inept husband isn’t the only one who knows how to use a gun.”

 

Fear flashed in Penelope's eyes, just for a fraction of a second before she steeled herself and snorted.

Penelope Blossom knew how to win a fight. She really did, but it was all against teenagers who couldn't fight back or adults who already feared her. She couldn't throw a real punch and Alice wasn’t showing an inch of intimidation at her wealth or influence. She knew she'd lost. But Penelope Blossom is Penelope Blossom is Penelope Blossom.

 

She locked eyes with Cheryl.

“Not worth the hassle.” She said in as dismissive a tone as exists before Alice grabbed her and roughly shoved her out the door.

 

Turns out Alice Cooper could be a good parent after all. Hal Cooper, not so much.

When they did go home he had in fact packed his shit and gotten the fuck out of her house.

He chose his hatred of the Blossoms over his love of his daughters. It was the wrong choice.

It's like Alice said to her girls.

“Your father has never been good at not getting exactly what he wants.”

There may or may not have been tears in her eyes when she spoke.


	32. How To Normal

It was good to be back in school. Normal. Kinda. Sorta. But not. 

Betty was typing her notes now. Her left handed typing was much better than her left handed penmanship and her right arm was still hanging limp at her side, more like a fashion accessory that made sure her clothes fit properly than a limb.

The first thing she did on her first day back was quit baseball. It had been painful but it's not like she could swing a bat or pitch now. Maybe in time. Maybe the physical therapy would work and she could start again. Maybe she could learn to pitch left handed. But that was a lot of maybes and they all needed time.

The second thing she did was quit the Vixens. Nobody needed a cheerleader who couldn’t toss you in the air or catch you when you fell, who couldn’t form a pyramid or even wave two frikkin pom-poms around.

Or, rather, the second thing she did was try to quit the Vixens.

Cheryl just scoffed.

“You don’t quit the River Vixens.” She said with a sneer. “You’re here until I allow you to leave.” She looked Betty up and down. “You were hardly setting the world alight before, I don’t see how this will change that. We’ll just have to amend our routines. It’s not like I didn’t have to do that before to accommodate your ‘abilities’.” And she dismissed Betty with a wave of her hand.

Because Cheryl Blossom is Cheryl Blossom is Cheryl Blossom and she can always do the best possible thing in the worst possible way.

Betty didn’t cry, but not by much because this girl. This broken mess of a girl would save your life if she could, but she’d do in a way that would make you hate her because she knew she wasn’t worthy of love and she had to make sure everyone else knew it too. This girl was Betty’s girlfriend and she loved her so much.

 

Cheryl knew that Betty was planning to quit, had told her she’d have to do it officially, had stroked her hair as Betty tried to work out what she would do with her time after baseball and cheer were no longer in her life, had comforted her while they lay in their bed.

Yeah, their bed. Alice had taken her in, hadn’t batted an eye at her moving into Betty’s room and had been insistent about putting a lock on the door. So they went to sleep every night the same way they woke up in the morning. In each others arms.

 

Not that anyone else knew.

That they were a couple was still a secret (unless you were Veronica or Kevin), so the fact that they were living together was nowhere near public consumption.

Yeah, it was odd that Betty and Cheryl were both off at the same time, and they both came back with injuries, but Cheryl was back in school three days before Betty. And besides, Betty and Cheryl? They could barely stand to me in the same room together (including the bathrooms), so the only way their absences could be related was if they'd hurt each other.

And that wasn’t it, by now everyone knew that Cheryl’s father had killed Jason, had tried to kill Cheryl, so unless Betty was involved in that somehow it couldn’t be related.

 

So yeah, Cheryl’s good little mean girl act was not expected and the smile that slipped through the smirk was meant only for Betty and it felt good, it felt normal, it felt right.

So when Betty went to the cafeteria for lunch she was expecting more normal. Cheryl had told her nothing had really changed, school was the same, her place in it was the same.

Cheryl had lied.

Cheryl had never really been one for friends, but she did have fear and awe on her side. Now people were openly muttering things as they passed her. Not even bothering to hide the pity and glee in their stares.

 

Betty felt a tentative hand on her shoulder.

 

“It hasn't been a great few days for her.” Veronica said, nodding to where Cheryl sat between Tina and Ginger, like she usually did. But the girls seemed to be paying her a lot less attention than they usually did.

 

“And you haven't helped her?” Betty asked.

 

“Tried, but since when does Cheryl…” don'tsaybottomdon'tsaybottom “Blossom listen to me?” Veronica tried to catch Ginger's eye. “Every time I got close to her all I got was a face full of venom for it.”

 

“She's not allowed to be weak and doesn't deserve kindness.” Betty said sadly as Ginger looked everywhere but at Veronica.

 

“Ugh, closeted girls are the worst!” Veronica said. “Present company excluded of course.”

 

Betty rolled her eyes and, oh no, nononono, nope the hecking no.

“Take my lunch for me please?” Betty asked as she passed her tray to Veronica.

 

“Sure, but why...oh, I think chivalrous Betty Cooper may be my favourite Betty Cooper.”

 

Cheryl wasn't eating, so much as pushing food around her plate. She knew Douche Todd was walking over to her. Knew he was going to make some stupid comment he thought was witty. That it had come to this. Had she really sunk so low that Douche Todd thought he could make comments not just about her, but to her? She really should do something about that but she just didn't have the energy. So she just let out a sigh rolled her eyes and waited.

 

Douche Todd was walking over to Cheryl with a huge grin plastered across his face. This, this was gonna be fun. He had the perfect thing to say (he really didn't, but it was Douche Todd, what do you expect). He may also have been planning to press himself against Cheryl when he said it, nothing less than the stuck up bitch deserves.

A hand gripped his shoulder, this felt kinda familiar, then the grip tightened and it felt really familiar.

He turned around to see blonde hair, blue eyes and a disappointed frown.

Betty shook her head at him and he scoffed at her, but walked away. Trying to pretend that he didn't care (he did) and that he chose to walk away (he didn't).

 

Cheryl's body was tense as she waited for the inevitable bullshit that was coming. The cafeteria had gotten quiet and more people were blatantly staring at her. Most people were blatantly staring at her. Great, an audience. That is just perfect. 

When she felt a familiar touch on her shoulder her body relaxed but it took her mind a moment to catch up.

_ he thinks he can touch me? oh that is it, I am going to rip his fucking throat out _

Before she could turn around to rip his throat out her view was obscured by a curtain of blonde hair and an upside down smile as Betty tilted down from behind her, the ends of her hair pooling on the table. It was a good thing that Cheryl hadn't gotten any dressing on her salad.

Cheryl leant her head back and Betty pressed the briefest of upside down kisses to her lips.

 

“hey you” Betty said softly and Cheryl smiled a vulnerable little smile that she could smile because Betty’s hair stopped anyone else from seeing it.

 

“hey” Cheryl whispered.

 

“come on” Betty said, taking Cheryl’s had as she stood up. Everyone was watching. Especially a girl by the door, two years younger than them, who rolled her eyes. Great, maybe now she could pee in peace.

 

It was as much a declaration as anything else.

She’s with me now. If you try to mess with her then you will have to deal with the disappointment of Betty Cooper, and no one wants Betty Cooper to be disappointed in them. And everyone remembers the stages that come after disappointment. Especially Douche Todd.

 

As Betty lead Cheryl over to her regular table Kevin and Veronica sat their with face splitting grins, Archie’s jaw dropped and Jughead just kept typing.

 

“Finally!” Kevin said.

“At last!” Veronica said.

 

“Wait, you knew?” They said at the same time pointing at each other as Betty and Cheryl sat down together.

 

“Cheryl?” Archie said. “So it was, and you, I, huh.” Then he stopped so his brain could reboot.

 

“You didn’t know?” Jughead asked, not looking up from his laptop.

 

“You did?” Betty asked.

 

“If it’s meant to be a secret,” Jughead said, still typing. “Maybe stop fucking in the toilets constantly.”

 

Betty turned a shade of red that made Cheryl’s hair look pale while everyone’s head snapped to Jughead. It took a beat for them to realise they were looking the wrong way and their heads snapped back to Betty and Cheryl.

 

Betty’s eyes darted around and she smiled nervously.

 

Cheryl just tossed her hair back with a smirk and said.

“Not fucking likely.”


	33. How To Shock Yourself

A lot of Betty’s questions had been answered but there were new ones. Chiefly among them was:

 

“How the fuck did Clifford Blossom get house arrest?”

 

Those were her exact words. Everyone stared at her, None of them had ever heard Betty say fuck before. Not Archie, who had grown up with her. Not Kevin, who had pestered her every day for five months to say it. Not Jughead, who heard everything. Not Veronica, who had gotten Betty to say the dirtiest words she could one night (there may have been tequila involved (meaning there was tequila involved)). Not Cheryl, who had seen her getting facefucked.

 

“What?” She asked, replaying the sentence over in her head before her eyes widened and her mouth clamped shut, hand covering it.

Betty Cooper blushed. She was very good at it. Were there blushing olympics, a blushlympics if you will (and even if you won’t), then she would have certainly made the US team.

 

After a moment of stunned silence everyone else burst out laughing at the sight of a seventeen year old who would beat down someone for being a bully (and fuck random strangers in as degrading a way as possible, but only Cheryl knew that part) so aghast at herself just for saying the word fuck.


	34. How To Keep Yourself Honest

Cars are great. A really top notch invention. They get you where you’re going a hell of a lot faster than walking, they give you a nice little bubble of protection and freedom, and they’re really fun to take apart and put back together. So, well done cars, thank you for existing.

 

Not that cars are the right tool for every job.

Like, say it’s dumb o’fuck in the morning and you want to get somewhere without being heard. A car’s not so good for that.

But a bike? Yeah, a bike would work for that. Not your bike though, your bike is too pink, too floral, too recognisable. But maybe, just maybe you’ve spent your life with the boy next door, in and out of each others homes as if you lived in both of them. Maybe you know where he keeps his incredibly nondescript, in dark colours bike and maybe you borrow that. 

Not that you’re going to ask.

And your bike isn’t the only problem. It’s not as though your hair’s inconspicuous or blends into the shadows.

Why does everyone assume you don’t have any black clothing? Yeah, you don’t tend to wear black but who doesn’t have a pair of black leggings or jeans? Who doesn’t own a black hoodie?

Or a beanie? 

That you can tuck your blonde hair into.

And then pull the hood up, just to be sure.

As you cycle across town.

Without turning the bike’s lights on.

While the rest of the town is asleep.

And hide your friends bike behind a bush.

Outside the biggest residential property in Riverdale.

That you just happen to know the alarm codes for.

And you just happen to have borrowed your girlfriends keys for. Maybe without asking her.

And maybe you know where all the security cameras on the grounds are. Or more importantly, where they aren’t.

Maybe you can slip into Thornhill and up the stairs without anyone knowing.

And you might just breathe a sigh of relief when you find Clifford and Penelope don’t share a bed.

You might even take one of Penelope’s pillows without waking her.

Maybe, as you stand over Clifford’s sleeping body, you remember how you told him that if he ever touched Cheryl again you’d kill him, and you are a terrible liar.

Maybe this would be easier if you had two working arms, but you’ve never been one to shy away from challenge.

Maybe for Clifford Blossom the angel of death has blonde hair, blue eyes and feels like luxury bedding.

 

“and maybe you don’t have to narrate everything I do!” Betty hissed at the noise in her head as they held the pillow down over Clifford’s face for far longer than was needed, just to be sure.

 

Betty returned Penelope’s pillow before slipping away, just as unseen as when she arrived (which was unseen, this isn’t some sneaky way of saying someone saw her coming and going).

 

She returned Archie’s bike, shoved her murder blacks back in her closet and slid into bed next to a still sleeping Cheryl.

 

Betty Cooper drifted off into an easy sleep as she curled herself around Cheryl, secure in the knowledge that she had been absolutely, deathly honest with Clifford Blossom.


	35. How To Love Yourself

An indeterminate amount of time had passed since Clifford’s death. A little tip, if you don’t want to be charged with murder, don’t sleep next to a murder weapon covered in your fingerprints and DNA. Especially if you have a really good motive.

 

“It could be that Daddy killed Jason. Or that he failed to kill me. Either one would be just as heinous to Mommy. Also the money.” As Cheryl put it.

 

She didn’t move back into Thornhill. Why would she when for the first time in her life she was being treated like an actual person. It was good, it freaked her the fuck out at times, a lot of times but it got easier to deal with the more she got used to it. She also liked that the only bruises she got now were consensual. 

What? 

Just because her and Betty weren’t hatefucking anymore didn’t mean they were gentle.

She also never asked Betty if she’d killed her father. Betty was a terrible liar and it was a question with no right answer.

  
  


They were lying in their bed, in a comfy, lazy kind of way, having just finished being not so gentle with each other. Cheryl’s head rested on Betty’s stomach and Betty was idley running her fingers through Cheryl’s hair.

 

“mmm thank you” Cheryl purred.

 

“I think that was a group effort Cher.”

 

“I would have used my bow and arrows. It would have been so obvious and they would never have blamed her.”

 

Betty tensed, not knowing what to say.

 

“love you.” Cheryl said as she nuzzled further into Betty’s stomach.

 

“love you too.” Betty said, relaxing into the feel of her girlfriend pressed up against her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, that's it, we're done here.
> 
> I guess I've finally answered the question 'how many words does it take to say two people hate each other, star fucking and end up falling in love'.  
> About thirty thousand for some fucking reasons.
> 
> If you're reading this then you've made it all the way to the end, well done, you stuck it out!  
> This is now the longest single story I have ever written and it's for a show I do not watch.
> 
> If you're after some actual good Betty/Cheryl (or Blooper as I like to call them) stuff here's a list:
> 
> Please Need Me by PeachyBaby  
> God Damn Right (You Should be Scared of Me) by PeachyBaby  
> Kamikaze by zombiekittiez  
> you're gonna see it's our destiny by EllieLovesYou (this one's a Betty/Cheryl/Veronica fic)
> 
> But seeing as you read this you've probably already read the actual good stuff that's out there.
> 
> Anyway, thank you for reading my tedious nonsense.  
> As always comments are appreciated but criticism gives an angel it's wings.


End file.
